Pride, Love, and Unity
by TrigramCyborg
Summary: It all starts with a mysterious 911 call. A woman was assaulted one evening, but, as far as the police are concerned, it was probably a mugging. As more clues come to light, it becomes apparent the truth is much more complicated. Just how deep did deceit root itself into this rotten city? (High School AU, Child Gen Oriented, Family Problems, Less Romance, Violence, Language)
1. Chapter 1: The Incident

_Public High School - noun: a government run institution to educate the general populous. The years are often remembered fondly as "the best of your life." Contrary to popular belief, those who succeed are not all smart, and those who flunk are not all hopeless.  
High School AU, Child Oriented, Family Problems, Less... Romance..._

 _WARNING: Parents are all paired here based on what is canon, logical, or fits best with the narrative. Some of your favorite pairings might not be included because of this. I do not necessarily support all these pairings involved, but this is purely for storytelling purposes. I will not respond to people who wish to complain about who I paired, but I will happily explain my madness behind them.  
Children will also not be paired on purpose. If it develops into something, then I will consider it, but otherwise I don't intend to put them together. Sorry, but romance isn't the focus of this story.  
And a final note, both Morgans are in this story as twins. However, male Morgan will be referred to by their Japanese name of Marc. Why both? Because the Future's Past DLC hints that they both exist and so I am rolling with it. MARC IS NOT AN OC, I PROMISE._

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

It's 4 A.M. and Henry hasn't slept a wink. He was in this hospital waiting room with his kids since yesterday evening, and he hadn't so much as dosed. It wasn't obvious, he sat there just as alert after 10 hours of waiting. That didn't mean he wasn't tired; he could feel the ever present temptation to gather up a row of chairs and sleep across them. Instead, he kept himself busy by counting the hours and hoping time would pass a little quicker.

He arrived around 6 in the evening with Morgan and Marc, and they waited for any sort of news they could get. There was an accident, and Robin was found unconscious. No one knew how it happened, and the information he got was vague at best. Serious head trauma, bruises and cuts all over her. No one would say it, but Henry half-wondered if his wife was hit by a car or something.

For a few hours, he watched Morgan pace around restlessly. Occasionally, his daughter stopped pacing to sit down, but jittering hands and restless feet drove her back up again. His son, Marc, kept himself out of the way meanwhile. His eyes were fixed on the television on the opposite side of the room, flickering over the subtitles as they came up. It was some animal documentary; at least, that's what Henry assumed. There were lions and gazelles that kept popping up, but he didn't bother with the text. He needed to keep an eye on Morgan to make sure she didn't bump into anyone.

Around 8, Chrom brought his family down, having heard the news, and they sat with them. Cynthia nudged at Marc, a kind smile on her face and a deck of cards in hand. "Marc, let's play a game."

Marc glanced away from the screen and noticed the cards. He wasn't sure whether or not to refuse her, and quickly found himself drawn into a game of poker. Of course, "because poker's no fun with two people", as she told Lucina with a giggle, she roped her sister in and somehow talked Morgan into settling down to join as well.

If nothing else, Henry was relieved. Although it didn't banish the dark thoughts on their minds, it at least gave them something else to do while they waited. Besides Cynthia, they looked distracted and were oddly quiet. Lucina was a bit more than obvious with her listening in as her parents talked.

Chrom asked what happened, having heard it from a news report. Apparently the local reporters jumped right to the story of a woman who was found battered on the side of the road, and he was positively shocked when they showed a photo of Robin to identify the victim. He came over almost immediately. Henry answered only what he had been told: "There was an accident. Nobody knows what happened."

Sumia patted Henry's arm, and Chrom frowned with worry as he considered what might have happened to his friend. Soon, he got up to get some air outside, and didn't come back until a half hour later, looking no better and walked in tight circles near their seats. His agitation rubbed off on Lucina, who quit the card game to instead distract herself with what little homework she brought with her. Henry noticed how she did more tapping with her pen than she did actual writing.

By 10 at night, Sumia offered to let Henry's kids sleep over at their house for the night. After all, it was a school night and they were too young to drive home. Henry agreed with a grateful smile and called the two over to tell them. Morgan stared at her dad in shock as Cynthia clung to her arm and jumped in excitement at the idea of a sleep over.

Marc looked crest-fallen. "But we want to stay here with you."

"Chin up, boy," Henry told him with a smile. "Mom's going to be fine. You both need your sleep for school tomorrow, either way."

Though he looked no happier, Marc tried to return his father's smile. Henry hugged them both, ruffling their white-haired heads, and watched them follow Chrom and his family out. Looking out the window, he met Morgan's stare as she too smiled and rubbed her eyes with her coat sleeve. After the car drove away into the night, Henry sat back down and waited in silence.

After that, the hours seemed to meld together between the quiet talk at the front desk and the low volume of the television. The people in the waiting room dwindled until it was only him and the night staff. He entertained himself by listening in on their conversations, but most of them weren't all that interesting. And now, it was 4 in the morning.

Stiff and sore, he got up and considered grabbing a cup of the free coffee the nursing staff left for visitors. However, his stomach practically flipped at the idea and he instead went to the water fountain to quench his dry throat. For the seventh time since he arrived, he went up to the front desk. "Excuse me, miss?" He was polite, despite feeling impatient at this point.

"Yes, sir? How can I help you?" she asked, looking up from a folder of papers on her desk. After he explained that his wife was admitted hours ago, she got on the computer and clicked away. The noise of her fingertips striking the keys was the nails-scratching-chalkboard to his patience. When she finally pulled up whatever she was looking for, she folded her hands on the table. "Ah, yes. Doctors declared her stable shortly after she arrived. She has yet to wake up."

He nodded in understanding, and then requested, "May I visit her?"

She stared hard at him. "Sir, I'm sorry. We don't permit visitors until 9 A.M. Maybe you can go home and-"

"Henry?" He turned to see one of the nurses, Lissa, approaching the desk. Her narrow brows arched in confusion. "What are you doing here? Did something happen?"

Once more, he explained the situation, how Robin was injured. Her confusion was very quickly replaced by shock.

The receptionist faced Lissa. "You know we can't just let anyone in outside visiting hours."

"I know that." She replied, sounding a little insulted at the insinuation that she forgot the rules, and returned her attention to Henry, "How long have you been waiting?"

"Since around 6 P.M." Henry answered with a smile, knowing full well how ridiculous it sounded.

Lissa was concerned and even sounded apologetic. "Well, I can't really keep you company for too long, my shift starts in ten minutes. Maybe you can take a nap at home and come back at 9."

Henry laughed and waved her off. "Nah, I think I'm going to get something from the vending machine and crash in my car for a few hours. I don't think I'm awake enough to drive home." This surprised her, as he still seemed totally alert.

Frowning, Lissa shook her head. "You better remember to roll down your window. I don't want you dying in your car."

"Hehe, yeah, it'd be pretty ironic to die in the parking lot of a hospital," he remarked, "buuut- I don't think my kids would be all that happy if I did so I will."

With that, he headed to the vending machine and bought himself a small snack and a bottle of water, then walked out of the waiting room and to his car. He popped open the trunk to get the emergency blanket, and discovered his kids' backpacks inside. He'd have to run these to school, after he rested; he really didn't want to get in an accident. He took the emergency blanket and made a neat pillow out of it so he could sleep on the back seats. It was hard and uncomfortable, and he swore that a buckle was digging into his hip, but he managed to relax enough to drift off.

* * *

The only one Morgan saw at the table who looked wide awake was Cynthia. Everyone else was, to some degree, tired or distracted. Chrom was reading over work documents, bills and proposals, but he didn't seem very productive doing it. He seemed to be taking a long time reading one page. Sumia was reading over his shoulder, and put a comforting hand on his shoulder in hopes of easing him. She looked troubled herself, but at least she managed to keep herself in a good mood, unlike Lucina, who stared at her cereal like it would somehow reveal all of life's answers.

Suddenly, Morgan felt a hand reach and take hers to hold under the table. She looked to her brother, who smiled and gave her fingers a firm squeeze. _"I'm here."_ he wordlessly told her. She squeezed back, and couldn't deny the comfort the small action gave her. She wasn't alone.

Chrom finally pushed the papers down and rubbed at his temples, picking up his own coffee. "Gods... Why can't I go two days without someone hounding me about the state budget."

"People want to know if their governor plans to cut funds for education in favor of prisons," Sumia noted. "I get that we only have so much revenue that comes in, but we could find other things to cut than education, right?"

"Or just tax more," Lucina pointed out half-heartedly.

"Oh, yes, that will work," Chrom remarked with clear frustration. "I can hear them now, 'He's raising the taxes again! He's going to steal our money and spend it on stupid things! Vote Gangrel for Governor!'"

Lucina glanced at her father quizzically. "Do you honestly think that lunatic is going to get elected next time elections come around?"

"Of course not," he scoffed. "The people around here are not that angry and stupid."

Sumia sighed and turned to the twins. "Did you two sleep well?"

"Yeah, fine," Marc lied. Neither of them did. They shared the one guest bed and stress kept the two of them up most of the night. Morgan distinctly recalled Chrom getting up several times in the night to walk around. And, when she got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, she caught sight of Lucina sitting awake with her head in her hands. It was a long night, in short.

Cynthia suddenly made a face, "I just realized, you guys are wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Daaad~! We forgot to stop by their house so they could pick up a change of clothes last night!"

Chrom glanced between the three freshmen at the table and realized his youngest was correct. "Oh. Whoops. Sorry about that, you two. I must have spaced it."

"Oh no." Sumia put her mug of coffee down. "Maybe we have something you two can borrow."

Marc was the first to protest, "That's fine, really! It's just one day, no big deal."

"Yeah, one day's not going to kill us." Morgan agreed. "Besides, I don't think you would have anything for Marc."

"Nonsense," Sumia said as she walked out of the dinning room, "Lucina used to wear a lot of boy clothes a couple years back."

This woke Lucina from her stupor, and she stood to shout after her, "MOTHER!" Her face was turning red as she rushed off after Sumia. "You're getting ahead of yourself! Don't just lend people my stuff!"

Several minutes later, Sumia returned with a couple sets of clothes and handed them to Marc and Morgan, who exchanged similar looks of surprise. The ever cheerful woman smiled and told them, "There you both go! Just wash these up and return them."

Morgan knew exactly what Marc was thinking. _Lucina's got some long legs_.

Sure enough, when they changed their clothes, they found themselves needing to cuff the pant legs up, and the shirts were a size too large. She was tall, simply tall. Morgan pulled her sweatshirt back on, keeping it unzipped, and watched her brother do the same. "Marc...?"

"Yeah?" He replied, straightening his hood.

"Our backpacks." She said slowly, and watched as realization crossed her brother's face.

"They're... in the trunk." Marc recalled. "With Dad."

Morgan pulled out her phone and fired a quick text to their dad. _[Our bags r in the trunk. Can you drop them off at school?]_

"Do you think he's still at the hospital?" Marc asked.

Shrugging, Morgan felt her phone vibrate in her hand and she saw her dad's reply. _[Yeah, I saw that. I'll drop them off. Just realized, eh?]  
_ She sighed heavily and typed a hasty reply. _[yes dad. thanks]_

Her attention came to her brother's question. "Probably." She answered simply. There was no reason why he wouldn't be, right? Though she desperately wished that he wasn't, that he was home with their mom.

Marc looked down, and made a serious effort to hold himself together. "Do... do you think mom's going to be okay?" He wondered.

She wasn't sure how to answer that either and so she stayed quiet. Morgan wanted her to be okay, more than anything, she wanted to see her smiling and hear her again. It was only twenty-four hours since the last time they saw their mom, and she couldn't deny that she missed her.

If anyone could translate her silence, it was him, and it gave him no comfort. "I know Dad told us not to worry," Marc continued. "I just want to be there with him and Mom when she wakes up."

Morgan couldn't take another word and reached out to pull him close to her. Her arms held him tightly, and he immediately returned it. Against her shoulder, he sniffled and blinked back tears while she did her best to pet his head and help him calm down. "I'm scared too," she confessed, "but we need to keep our chins up."

Marc nodded and clutched the back of her sweatshirt. "I know."

* * *

When Henry returned to the hospital after dropping off his kids' backpacks (and picking up whatever quick breakfast he could scrounge up at the convenience store on the way back) he decided to sleep a little longer - since he was still tired and had a couple more hours until visiting hours began. He fell off into a troubled sleep in his car again, which he was woken up from by a tapping on the half open window. Half awake, he yawned out a groggy "Yeah, what...?" without really looking to see who it was.

"Everything alright in there?" He recognized the voice as one of the police officers around town. Vaike. "Lissa tells me you've been sleeping in your car, and wanted me to see if you remembered to roll your windows down."

Henry sat up and grinned. "Yup. Wouldn't want to die of suffocation!"

It never really sat right with Vaike how he could say these things like it was a joke. "Yeah... Well, alright. I'll let her know you're not dead then."

That's when Henry bothered to glance at the time. "I'll come along. Visiting hours have finally started." He crawled out of the car and followed Vaike back to the waiting room, where there was now a lot more activity going on than when he left it. People moved about the room, sitting in chairs, talking at the front desk. It was a little surprising, and amusing, to him how many people could show up at this place to see their sick and dying relatives. Then again, he was no different, now was he?

They were approached by Lissa, who clutched her clipboard and kept glancing around the room to keep an eye on people. "Oh good, you found him. Thanks, Vaike."

"Sure thing, honey," he gave her a kiss on the head and glanced down at his watch. "Oh, damn. I gotta go; my shift starts in twenty minutes. See ya later!" He rushed off with an added, "Tell Robin I said get well soon, Henry!"

Lissa's smile vanished as she got down to business. "Robin woke up just a few hours ago."

"Oh, well that's good," Henry replied, though was aware that she seemed too stiff saying that. "But..." He said as an invitation to hit him with whatever news she had.

"But..." Lissa sighed, "She's, well... I think it'd be best if you see her, yourself."

* * *

If time could somehow pass any slower, Morgan would have sworn that every clock in this school was broken. All she wanted was to get out of this class, get out of school, and see her mom. She needed to know she was okay. The wait was practically killing her.

And it wasn't even lunch time yet.

It wasn't like Ricken wasn't an engaging teacher. Heck, this was his first year teaching and he quickly earned the reputation of teacher who totally understood his students. She just couldn't focus with her persistent need for time to speed up, for this day to be over. When she glanced over the class, she caught sight of her brother gazing out the window a couple rows ahead. Beside him was a blond junior boy, Owain, who was scribbling away in his notebook. After a couple of weeks of being in the same class as him, she came to learn that he was jotting down some crazy ideas for a fantasy game.

Morgan felt a tap on her wrist by the dark haired girl sitting next to her; another freshman dubbed Nah. The classmate passed her a stray piece of paper, and she stealthily read the note.  
 _What's up? You look terrible._

Morgan pressed her lips together with indecision. She could jot down her reply - whatever that was - or she could avoid getting caught by the teacher and wait like she normally did. Ordinarily she even kept her cellphone off when she got to school, but today wasn't much of an ordinary one for her to begin with. Quiet and quick, she scribbled down a vague answer.  
 _A lot's going on for me. I'm pretty distracted._

She watched Nah's eyes skim over the note and she quickly wrote back.  
 _Want to borrow my notes later? If you want, you can talk to me about whatever's up at lunch._

She found a tiny smile push at her face from the kind offer. That was just how Nah could be sometimes.  
 _Please?_

Nah gave her a stealthy wink and returned her attention to Ricken as he wrote something down on the whiteboard, chattering on energetically. Morgan caught something about chain reactions, but she didn't really pay much attention as she worked to put her thoughts in order. She was anxious. She had no idea if her mom was going to be okay. She texted her dad several times that morning to ask about Mom, but he had yet to respond. The worst case scenario was that her mom died, but she kept coming up with other things. Brain damage, coma, a stroke... It could be anything, she just wanted her mom to be perfectly alright.

The bell eventually rang, and Morgan started to gather her things. Her brother didn't seem to hear the bell, and was startled to his senses by Owain giving him a nudge. The older boy regarded him with actual worry, "Hey, man, are you okay?"

It was rare that he spoke so plainly, and so Marc was clearly put off by this. "Yeah... I'm fine."

Though this didn't seem to convince Owain, he didn't persist. "If you say so. Now I must be off, there are trying matters I must attend to!" In other words, lunch, Morgan translated in her head as she watched him fly out of the classroom.

Before she and Marc could leave, Ricken stopped them with a firm "Could you two stay a minute?"

Nah passed Morgan by with a sorry look and she wondered if he saw them passing notes. Worried, she finished packing her things, but stayed behind with her brother. She had to force herself not to check the clock for the hundredth time this period. "What is it, Teacher?" _Please make this quick,_ she silently begged.

He looked between the two of them and asked, "Is something bothering the two of you? You looked very out of it today."

Morgan didn't want to answer, but Marc spoke up. "Our mom got in an accident, she's at the hospital."

Sympathy played on his face and he nodded. "I see. That can be very distracting, I bet." There was a bit of awkwardness as he asked, "Do you need someone to talk to about it?"

Both twins shook their heads in unison. "No, sir."

"Well, then I'll let it go. When you two are up to it, just swing back over here and I will help you out with whatever material you didn't quite get." Ricken told them. "When you see your mom, tell her I said hi, alright?"

Morgan pulled one of her dad's smiles, hoping that it might sooner get her out of here. "We will. Thank you."

They were then let out and went off to lunch.

While Morgan found Nah to copy down her notes, Marc found himself pulled aside by one of his classmates, who proceeded to ramble on and on about some nonsense that he wasn't even listening to. Something about a club, but that's about as much as his actually caught. Marc's thoughts demanded his attention much more than this guy did. So after what he hoped was only a minute, he politely excused himself and found a quiet place to think in the courtyard.

He was scared, more than anything. How could something like this happen to his mom? Was it even an accident? And if it wasn't, then who could possibly want to hurt her like they did. He wanted to believe that this would pass, that she'd wake up and everything would be alright. He tried his hardest not to consider the horrible possibilities, and that left him with only one option; hope and pray that his mom would be fine. She'd recover, and everything would be back to normal in no time at all. She had to be, he couldn't imagine what life would be like if she wasn't the same.

All too soon, the school day came to an end. A small part of him wished that it would have lasted longer, that he could delay the truth. Some part of him whispered that something bad was going to happen. He was so distracted that he was about to get on the bus to go home when his sister told him that their dad was coming to pick them up.

The car ride felt like the longest part. After they threw their bags in the trunk and got on the road, anxiety found itself fluttering in Marc's chest. His heart beat quickly, and he trembled. Mind swimming, he dimly wondered if he himself was dying. When Henry looked back him through the rear view mirror, he asked, "Are you alright, Marc?"

"I'm fine..." Marc answered and took a deep breath in hopes of calming down. It didn't help him any. He hugged the folded blanket to his chest and waited, counting the cars they passed on the highway to keep himself busy. Never had he felt so sick with worry.

Neither of them had the courage to ask how their mom was, so the drive was practically silent. Once they arrived at the hospital, the twins got out of the car, followed by Henry, who didn't move after he closed the door. It was almost as if his shoes fused themselves to the pavement. "Kids-" he called out after them before they could get far. "-wait a sec."

They turned to him as he caught up, finally seeing that his normal bright and cheery smile, for once, was gone. His narrow eyes gazed between them both as he seemed to try to fish for the words he wanted to say. Marc felt his knees grow weak as dread leaked into his heart. "Dad...?"

If it was possible to look a hundred years older, Henry somehow managed to in that one moment. "Mom's..." he paused, having a hard time even bringing himself to say it. Taking a deep breath, he started again, "Mom's not here right now."

The twins stood there, stunned at his words. _Not here? What the hell do you mean,_ Marc panicked to himself. It couldn't be, anything but that. "I-Is mom...?" He felt physically ill, and dizzy at the thought. Morgan, meanwhile, had blanched several shades. Their dad couldn't be serious. He _had_ to be joking!

Henry somehow remained composed, but he reached out and took hold of both their shoulders and pulled them close. "She's got amnesia."

Marc could feel his world come crashing down.


	2. Chapter 2: When you get out of here

_Here's a nice little way for me to explain why I picked these pairings. I'm just going to name one and list some of the reasons it was chosen for this fic. I cannot stress enough that these aren't necessarily who I actually ship. I know that there are some better ones, but, again, they weren't what I was going for._

 _Pairing Profiles: Robin x Henry_

 _~Morgan and Marc don't have amnesia to explain their happy-go-lucky personality. I realize I could have made the Avatar a dude and married someone like, say, Nowi, to get that cheerful personality, but I didn't want to deal with three kids and also wanted to pair as many of these guys as possible. Henry's a pretty cheery guy, dark humor aside. He could easily be the silly father to such silly children._  
 _~Henry's very devoted and loving to those he cares about. Considering what I threw Robin into, that's just what they need to hold this family together._  
 _~Have you seen Morgan and Henry both smiling together? It's literally impossible not to see a resemblance!_

* * *

Morgan and Marc walked down the hospital halls with nervousness gnawing away at their insides. They had listened to their dad explain their mom's condition before they went inside, and nailed him with question after question. He answered each calmly, his voice steady and expression gentle.

Their mom had amnesia. She simply didn't remember a thing; not about herself, or anyone for that matter. All day, their dad talked with her, telling her what he could about the basic things. Although at first frightened and confused by her predicament, she apparently became curious and started to respond. She kept him talking for hours, and by the time he had to leave, she heard a great deal.

Before they reached the room, they were stopped by Lissa, who greeted them with a smile. "Hi, guys!"

Marc looked down and Morgan gave an unenthusiastic "Hi."

She frowned; their lack of energy seemed almost contagious. "I'm sorry about your mom, you two. We're here to help however we can, so don't worry."

Marc asked her fretfully, "Do you think she'll get better?"

It was a hard thing to answer, as was evident in her tightened hold of her clipboard. "Well, I can't promise anything, but it is possible. The brain's a very adaptable thing, and it can establish new connections over time. Usually amnesiacs recover their memory at some point. Now, we haven't gone in and scanned to see what the damage was, but judging by the fact she hasn't shown too many adverse effects from head trauma, it looks promising."

Although it didn't change things now, it did give the two some hope; something they desperately needed.

"So," Lissa chirped, "are you ready to visit?"

Morgan could feel anxiety stir in every muscle of her body. This was it. She answered with a withering "Yeah."

She wasn't sure what she expected when their dad opened the door, but she was surprised to see her mom sitting on the bed with some pamphlet in hand and that all too familiar pinch in her brow as she read the words. The sound of the door opening alerted the woman, and she looked up quickly. "Oh, you're back." A friendly grin spread across her face.

Their dad stepped in and laughed, "Yup, sure am. Brought a couple people with me too." He glanced back at the twins, who remained frozen in the threshold, and requested, "Morgan, Marc, come on in."

Slowly, they shuffled in, and Lissa stepped around them to check the files at the foot of the bed. Morgan couldn't find it in herself to speak, and stood there at a loss of words while their mother was scanning them from where she sat.

Robin's quizzical expression returned to a kind smile. "Well, hello. Henry told me you both were at school; did you have a good day?"

At first, the twins remained silent. Seconds ticked agonizingly by until a hesitant Marc spoke up. "Mom? Do you... remember us?"

The question caught the woman off-guard, and her smile vanished as she sighed. "No, sorry..." She brushed back a strand of white hair from her face and continued, "I mean, there is something about you two that feels a little familiar, but I really can't really remember anything."

Marc looked down, and Morgan swore she was feeling a similar stab of pain in her heart.

That's when their dad gave a small laugh, "Well, ain't this just awkward! Let's just try reintroducing ourselves, it'll be fun." He put his hand on his chest and said, "My name's Henry, I work down at the university as a professor."

Lissa put the files back and added energetically, "Hi, I'm Lissa, I work here."

Morgan and Marc exchanged glances and came to a mutual decision to play along - it was better than standing there feeling like strangers. "I'm Morgan, I'm a freshman."

"I'm Marc, and I am too."

Smiling, their mom said, "And I'm Robin, I like books." A pause. She glanced down at the pamphlet in her hand. "I suppose."

"Your job practically revolved around books," Henry told her. "You're a historian."

"A historian who can't remember her history," Robin quipped, amused.

Once more, Henry laughed, "It's pretty ironic, I know!"

Morgan chose to participate in the conversation. "If you still like books, then you're going to love it when you get to come home. We have a small library there and everything."

"Wow, really?" Their mom looked positively eager. "Then I can't wait to get home."

"We'll be keeping you here for a couple more days," Lissa informed, "just to make sure everything checks out."

Marc got up on his toes and whispered something to their dad, and Morgan watched as he was handed the car keys. Marc rushed out, and Morgan listened to the conversation as it became more lighthearted. When Marc came back a couple minutes later, he passed their dad back the keys and he held a book out to Robin. "Two days is a long time to just sit around not doing much. So here's something to help pass the time."

Gratefully, Robin accepted the book. "Thank you." She read the title, and glanced back up at him. "Are you sure? Don't you need to read this for a class?"

"Don't worry about that, Morgan and I can share one." Marc grinned.

Morgan scoffed. "Or you can ask the teacher to loan you another one."

"Aw, but that's no fun," Marc whined, despite the huge grin on his face.

"I swear you're sounding more and more like your dad every time I see you," Lissa remarked. She looked to the clock and settled down again. "Anyway, you will have to leave soon. I hate cutting this meeting short, but we have a few tests scheduled."

Morgan saw her dad's brows curl up and his smile lessen for the briefest of moments. He nodded and looked over to her and Marc. "Well then, I guess we'll be on our way." The happiness in his smile seemed too overdone as he added, "We'll be right back here tomorrow, though!"

"Not like I'll be going anywhere," Robin joked. "It's been great talking to you guys."

Marc rushed up and gave Robin a hug. She gently patted his back as he said, "We can talk about the book tomorrow, if you get the chance to read it." He pulled back, and looked a little misty-eyed. "I love you, Mom."

Robin looked initially pained by those simple words, but then it was replaced by gratitude and relief. "I love you too."

Henry gave his wife a kiss on the head and told her sweetly, "If you need anything, just call. Anything." She thanked him with a chuckle.

Morgan was about to leave when her mom's voice stopped her. "Wait, Morgan." The freshman turned and saw Robin holding her arms open, inviting her in. "At least say goodbye." Taking a deep breath, she approached her mom and was pulled into a warm hug. With her face against Robin's shoulder, Morgan felt her eyes sting. "I know it's not the same," Robin admitted, "but at least it's something."

"Yeah..." Morgan replied quietly. "See you tomorrow."

Robin let her go and carried sadness in her smile. There was nothing else they said before they left for the night. They'd be back tomorrow, and then the day after that, but then their mom could come back home. It was only a couple more days, but Morgan couldn't wait.

* * *

If there was one thing Lucina wasn't sure how to do, it was how talk to an amnesiac.

She nervously straightened her hair with her fingers as she made her way down the hospital corridors. Visiting hours would end soon, so she needed to make this count. But where would she even begin? _"Hey, I know you don't remember me but..."_ She hated the idea that no matter what she said, she would need to explain.

As she rounded the corner, she paused and kept herself close to the wall when she spotted the blue of a police uniform. The officer, her Uncle Vaike, was standing outside of Robin's room. _Was the accident bad enough to warrant the police?_ Why would they be here?

Vaike glanced up, and she ducked closer to wall, hoping to the gods he didn't see her. Last thing she wanted was to be grilled about why she was visiting.

His loud voice called her out though. "Someone there? Come on out."

Biting her lip, she stepped out into the open, and he eased up.

"Oh, hey, Lucina!" Vaike greeted. "What're you doing here?"

"Hi, Uncle Vaike," she replied. Lucina glanced at the number plate again, hoping she somehow misread it the first time. Unfortunately, she got it right. This was Robin's room. "I came here to visit Robin."

"Gotcha," her uncle replied. "You're going to have to wait though. We're just finishing up some business here."

Already, she could guess what he would say if she asked him about it. Despite that, she still inquired, "What business would that be?"

"Just looking into the accident," Vaike answered, "can't really tell you much more than that though. Confidential and stuff."

The door opened and Lon'qu, a detective, cut in with, "Let's go." He hung his hands in his pockets and walked away while Vaike scrambled to catch up.

"Hey, wait up!" Vaike called after him. "Did you get any information?"

Lucina listened closely as they rounded the corner, and Lon'qu replied in a lower tone, "Not so loud. Nobody needs to know about our investigation."

"Oh, right," Vaike whispered back. "Sorry!"

She could guess that Lon'qu groaned or gave some form of a retort, but at this point they were too far off to hear. Shifting the weight of her bag, she opened the door and poked her head inside.

Robin was standing by the window, almost leaning into the glass as she stared with wide eyes at the distant lights of the downtown city. On the bed was a book hastily marked with a loose scrap of paper, and a few cards were left on the nightstand along with a half-empty glass of water and an untouched assortment of pills she still had yet to take.

 _Maybe I should let her be,_ Lucina considered. She ultimately decided against this and cleared her throat to grab the woman's attention. Robin turned and looked at her as she fully entered the room and said awkwardly, "Hi, Robin." _What next?_ She paused and tried to fish for something else; should she introduce herself?

With a curious look, Robin leaned against the windowsill and asked with an inquisitive tone, "I know you, don't I?"

Slowly, Lucina nodded. "Yeah. You and my father were great friends."

"Your father..." Robin pondered this, and she very quickly worked it out in her head. "Oh! He was here with his wife and other daughter earlier. Chrom, right?"

"That's right," Lucina confirmed. "I'm his oldest daughter, Lucina."

Robin nodded. "Right, right. He mentioned you. You had something else to do and couldn't come."

"Yeah, I have a job right after school." Lucina explained. "At a flower shop downtown, _Le Fleurs_."

"Quality naming right there," Robin responded.

Lucina sighed. "I know, real creative on the Rosannean owner's part."

"So what do you do there?" Robin asked.

To that, Lucina answered with a hint of embarrassment, "I, um, I make floral arrangements." It was girly and pointless, but she did love the smiles people had when they saw the arrangements. Thankfully, nobody would judge if their class president, a girl, worked with flowers.

Robin considered this and responded with, "How long have you been working there?"

"A little over a year. I got it as a summer job and I've kept it since," Lucina told her.

"Is it good work?" Robin inquired. "It must be hard keeping up with school work on top of it."

Lucina shrugged, ignoring the weight of her backpack. "Senior year's been light on the work load beyond all the college applications they expect me to fill out. I've been able to keep on top of everything just fine, and the job pays decently enough." _Then again, it's only September..._

The conversation lulled to a halt, and they stood in silence for a minute as they both considered what else to say. Robin spoke up first. "How was school today?"

The senior girl considered the question and wondered to herself what to say. She had heard a lot of pity comments about Marc and Morgan, but she doubted that it was any of her business here to tell her about it. She decided to leave that alone and keep things simple. "It was fine. Nothing of importance really happened. How was your day?"

Robin considered the question with a frown. "Not very interesting really. I wish I could go for a walk or something, but I was told to stay so that I wouldn't get lost." She tugged at her hair in frustration, "It's so boring in here, though!"

"When are you getting out?" the senior asked curiously.

"Tomorrow." Robin answered, giving her a confused stare and dropped her hands. "Why?"

Lucina smiled widely. "How about tomorrow I take you out around the town. It might help you get grounded again."

There was undeniable uncertainly towards the proposal. "I don't know... Don't you have school? Today's... Thursday, right?"

"It's only late September, I can miss one day." Lucina assured. "Is Henry going to be busy tomorrow?" He was a professor down at the city's university, so she wasn't sure what his schedule even looked like. Maybe he told Robin.

She nodded. "For a good chunk of the day, yes."

"I'm going to need to get his permission first." She put her hands into her jacket pockets and thought the plan over in her mind. Yes, talk to Henry first, it would save her from a lot of trouble. _Then I'll need to get out of school. Play sick maybe? No, then mom will stay home to take care of me. I need to call in sick myself. Then I can sneak out saying I need to do something before school and avoid all questions._ "But, he might be agreeable to meeting up for lunch or something when he's taking a break."

Robin leaned against the wall and regarded her quizzically. "Chrom failed to tell me how devious you are."

Lucina grinned mischievously. "I'm golden, as far as he's concerned."

* * *

That night, Lucina slipped out onto the porch to call up Henry and tell him about her plan. She kept a diligent ear out for any voices inside, since her family was already going to bed. It was 10 P.M. and she hoped that Henry didn't go to bed early.

The dial tone sounded five times before there finally came an uncertain and tired _"Hello?"_

"Morgan?" Lucina guessed, and received a yawned out affirmation. "Can you put your father on the phone?"

A pause. _"Why?"_

"I've got something to ask him, is that okay?" Lucina answered vaguely.

She could hear the younger girl sigh over the phone and her call out her dad. After the phone was passed over, Henry greeted with his usual energy. _"Well, hell-loo!"_

Lucina felt a little nervous now as she wondered if he would even say yes. "I hear that Robin is getting out of the hospital tomorrow."

 _"Yup, sure is."_

"And, you see, I had this idea," Lucina continued, "Maybe we can take her out around the town tomorrow and help get her grounded again. She doesn't seem to like sitting around doing nothing all that much, and it'd be good for her to get some air. I know you're busy tomorrow, so I can go with her."

 _"Your idea requires you to play hooky,"_ Henry considered. There was a nerve wracking pause before he laughed. _"Wow, didn't think you had it in you! I can meet up with you two between my noon classes and we can all have lunch."_

"I had the same idea," Lucina agreed with obvious relief. "Oh, and this is all on me, so don't worry about paying."

 _"Sure thing!"_ He cheerfully accepted.

She bit her lip. "Oh, but there's one condition. This whole plan is top secret. My parents don't know."

 _"Gotcha! My lips are sealed with super glue!"_ Henry chirped. _"Chrom's a stick in the mud anyways."_

She laughed quietly. "Right. So I'll pick her up around 9. Is that okay?"

 _"Sure is."_ Henry agreed. _"I'm taking her home around 8, so that shouldn't conflict with anything. Nya ha! This is going to be fun!"_

"Yeah. See you tomorrow." She said with a smile. He returned the goodbye and she hung up. Taking a deep breath, she felt a rush of adrenaline at the thought of breaking the rules like this. She's always been the responsible big sister, so for her to do something so rebellious... It felt exhilarating.

Lucina crept back inside and returned to her room. As ideas for what to do tomorrow listed themselves in her head, she watched the hours sneak by. It'd be a miracle if she got any sleep that night between her racing thoughts and slamming heart. She couldn't wait for tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3: Skipping School

_Remember how I said I chose certain pairings based on canon? Here's that ship. I personally like Chrom and Sully as a pairing, it's less fluffy. Hell, I ship Sumia with Henry before I consider her for Chrom. But, again, that wasn't what I was going for._

 _Pairing Profiles: Chrom x Sumia_

 _~It's the most cannon pairing you can find in Awakening. Sumia appears in the intro credits with Chrom as his wife, there is later a cutscene in the game for the two titled "Love Birds", and Sumia can get a special proposal, unlike the other girls, if you wait long enough to marry Chrom. Right from the moment they introduce Sumia, the game is pushing at us how cute a couple they'd be to the point where all her character development, outside supports, is practically geared towards furthering the couple. And, no matter how you slice it, Sumia is always Chrom's first choice if all his options are available.  
~In context to this story, Cynthia is the most believable sibling for Lucina. She fits the little sister role perfectly.  
~The support between Lucina and her sibling looks to be written with Cynthia in mind. Who else would freak over a bug or use Falchion to cut apples? Certainly not Kjelle or Inigo. Maybe Brady for the bug thing, but do you honestly expect him to be brave enough to sneak Falchion away from his older sister?  
~Lucina came across as somewhat ditsy. This wasn't as exaggerated as some characters, but she is. Sumia is the only mother I can see her getting this from. Especially since none of her other possible siblings turn out nearly as clueless as Lucina can be._

* * *

By 6 in the morning, Lucina was already set to leave. Her eagerness had kept her awake most the night, but somehow managed to feel energetic despite that. When her father came out to the dinning room, shuffling and groggy, she did her best to contain her energy. She didn't want to alert him to her plan. She made a point of picking up her bag and heading to the garage door, which grabbed Chrom's attention.

"Lucina? Where are you going?" He yawned. "You're up awfully early."

"I have a..." she hadn't thought of a good excuse last night, so she fished for something to say. "-a student council meeting. We're supposed to meet up at the school early and everything."

He gave her a confused look, as he knew just as well as her that she normally would have told him this sort of stuff well in advance. "You didn't mention any of this before."

"It came up this morning!" Lucina waved her cellphone to further her point. _Oh, please don't call me out on this..._ she prayed.

Chrom stared at her for several seconds before sighing. "They should be more timely about these things. Go on, you wouldn't want to keep them waiting."

She ran back to him and gave him a kiss on the head. Just as quick, she rushed down to the garage and quickly shut the door behind her. Sighing heavily, she picked up the phone and did her best to steel her nerves. Next step was to call herself out of school.

Her fingers hit the buttons slowly, as Lucina tried to remember what the number was. The dial tone sounded and finally she was answered by a recording.

 _"This is Ylissol High School..."_ the woman spoke quickly and before she even had time to process the rest there was a beep.

Lucina lowered her voice to sound like her father. "Hi, um... Lucina, Senior, will not be in school today. She's... been up all night with a stomach bug." After that, she hung up and rushed into her car.

Jittering with excitement, she pressed a remote button in her car to open the garage door and drove out away. After she was well down the street, she found herself laughing.

This was insane!

Lucina spent the next couple of hours scouting out the town, making a cohesive plan in her head, and then finally drove around to Henry's with an hour to spare. While he was a little surprised to see her there so early, he greeted her with a grin and let her inside.

"Did you have breakfast?" He asked, gathering his work together. "I got french toast. You still like french toast, right?"

Lucina smiled and nodded. "Yes, I do. May I please have some?"

"You know where to look," he replied. "There's some orange juice in the fridge too. Just don't touch the strawberry yogurt - that's mine. Nya ha!"

Henry left soon after to pick up Robin from the hospital, and Lucina waited while she ate her breakfast. Their home was a cozy one of sorts, with old wood floors and aged paint on the walls. The furniture was similarly old, either coming from grandparents or yard sales. Everything was worn, and yet carefully maintained. The wall was filled with photos, mainly of the four of them, but also of gatherings with friends, Robin and Henry's wedding, and a few of the twins' grandparents. Pushed to one wall in the living room was a bookshelf filled to the brim with tomes of varied thickness. The air smelled of leather book covers and aged paper as well as fresh brewed coffee that was left waiting on the pot.

Lucina always felt comfortable in their house, and now was no exception.

When Henry returned, he guided Robin inside and Lucina saw her dark eye flash in amazement as she looked at the home. Robin's smile grew wide and she smelled the air.

Henry watched her, and looked genuinely pleased by her reaction. "Spark any memories?" He asked with a chuckle.

Robin paused and considered the question. "Hmm... actually, come to think of it, this all feels very familiar." Looking at the photos, she added, "Nothing specific really, but familiar."

"Well, that's better than nothing," Henry laughed. "I'll see you at lunch, Robin. Love you."

"Um... wait, Henry." Robin caught up to him before he could leave and wrapped her arms around him. "Thanks."

He patted her back and gave her a kiss on the head. "No problem." Henry then left.

Robin sighed and strolled back towards the living room, where she finally noticed Lucina sitting there, who watched the entire scene in silence. The older woman gave an awkward laugh. "Oh, wow... Didn't see you there."

Lucina sipped her orange juice and replied, "Oh, don't mind me. So the place feels familiar?"

"Yeah," Robin nodded. "I don't know what it is exactly, I just feel like I know this house."

"I would hope so," Lucina said, finishing the rest of her juice. "You lived in this house for nineteen years." She got up to go to the kitchen and put the glass in the sink. "I think Henry left some coffee on the pot for you. Do you want any?"

"Huh? Sure!" Robin called back from the living room.

Lucina fished for a mug in the cabinet, and grabbed the first one she could reach. She remembered how Robin liked her coffee after so many years of seeing her forgo the sugar and creme, and so brought the near pitch black drink to her.

Robin accepted the drink and immediately took to drinking it, puffing out the hot air after each sip.

"Once you have your coffee, we can get going and explore the town." Lucina said.

"Right," Robin agreed. "So did you have any plans?"

Lucina nodded. "Oh, I do, but it's a surprise." She felt the phone in her pocket buzz and she pulled it out to see a new text.

Cynthia... _[Sis, where r u? I had 2 take the bus!]_

 _[Sry, I have a council meeting]_ Lucina replied. _[I might be late coming home. Let dad know, k?]_

 _[How long is the meeting?!]_ Cynthia asked.

Lucina considered the question and answered, _[all day]_

"So, ready to leave?" Robin asked, coming up seemingly out of nowhere.

Lucina jumped, but quickly recomposed herself. She slipped the phone away, and ignored it as it buzzed again. "Right! Off we go!"

* * *

Cynthia huffed as she glared at her phone. Stupid Lucina. Stupid student council. Because her sister had to leave early, she took the car with her and Cynthia was forced to ride the bus. The _bus_! That tin tube was packed with cranky teens and jerks. At least, unlike the afternoon buses, they weren't howling and shrieking, but it was still a horrible place as far as the freshman was concerned. Oh how she wished she could teach them all a lesson!

She thrust her phone back into her pocket and pouted. Maybe she should have joined student council and gotten out of her math class.

As she made her way to the class in question, she bumped into the freshman class president, Roy. Now she was utterly confused. "Hey, wait!"

Roy turned around, fixing his hold on a couple heavy textbooks in his arms. "Hmm? Yeah?"

"Isn't there a student council meeting today?" Cynthia asked, and watched confusion cross his face. "You know, like, all day?"

This processed with the other freshman for several seconds, and then he rushed off with a panicked "Nobody told me!" He vanished around the corner, leaving Cynthia answerless.

"You know there really isn't one." Cynthia spun around to find herself face to face with one of the upperclassmen, Inigo. He smiled as he added, "I saw the junior class copresidents, Ephraim and Erika, in my chemistry class last period. Not telling the freshman's one thing, but it's very unlikely that they missed a meeting."

Cynthia stared at him and then figured out what the implication was. "But my sister told me there was a meeting today."

Inigo shrugged, "Well then it seems your sister is a liar." He gave a dramatic flare as he added, "A real surprise; to think Lucina had it in her to be so rebellious-"

At this point, Cynthia tuned him out as she thought aloud, "Lucina? Rebellious?" She paled several shades. "The world's gone crazy. That's it. We're doomed."

"Well, just her really," Inigo pointed out, "I mean, I heard that there has been a lot more activity from the Grimleal Gang."

She pulled out her phone and ran off to call her dad. He had to know!

* * *

Lucina parked the car and got out to pay the meter. She looked up to see Robin taking in the sight of the busy city main street with the wide eyed fascination of a child. Laughing with amusement, Lucina asked, "Look familiar?"

To the question, Robin shook her head. "No, but this place looks so lively."

After paying the meter, they started down the street, and Lucina found what she was looking for; the trolley stop, where there were already a dozen or so people who were waiting for the late morning tour. "You used to take us on the trolley tours all the time with your kids when we were young."

"Really?" Robin asked. "Did I babysit you and your sister a lot?"

"Well, yeah, all the time." Lucina said with a laugh. She tucked her hair back and pulled the hood of her jacket up, as they were close to city hall and she didn't want her father spotting her out and about in the streets instead of at school. "Our parents were always busy, so you watched over us while you worked at the library. And when you went on lunch break, you marched us down to this wonderful little café."

"Oh, is that where we're going?" Robin asked as the trolley came rolling in. They paid for the tour and took the back seats.

Lucina smiled and leaned back into the bench. "So much for surprising you. We'll be meeting Henry there for lunch."

Robin nodded enthusiastically and glanced around the streets while they rode along. She noticed among the bustling crowd two men with purple eye patterns on their sleeves harassing a street vendor. "Hey, Lucina?" She inquired, "Is there a lot of crime in this city?"

"Huh?" Lucina sat up at the question. "Why? Did you remember something?"

"No," Robin said, "just curious."

Lucina considered the question carefully, and finally answered, "There's this mob, the Grimleal, that practically runs the city. They're a bunch of fanatics; of what exactly, we don't know. And as you can probably guess, they're very well organized and have a large sphere of influence."

Robin knitted her brows curiously. "Really? Sounds like a hand full."

"Believe me, my father forgets to sleep sometimes because of those thugs," Lucina replied. "He can't just arrest them either because there's nothing to really link the gang leaders to any crimes. We don't even know who the leader is. Sure, we have rumors; I hear that one of the running candidates for governor, Gangrel, is affiliated with them. But just a rumor isn't enough to go on."

"Nobody knows the leader? That seems a bit far fetched, don't you think?" Robin considered. "Obviously someone knows, right?"

Lucina frowned and looked down. "Yeah."

Robin then was worried. "What is it?"

"Someone knew, once." she said slowly, uncertainly.

It didn't take a genius to figure out who she meant. Robin slumped. "Oh... I see." _So that's what that Detective Lon'qu guy was getting at,_ she thought. "I'm sorry."

Lucina sighed. "Let's just drop it, okay?"

The next hour was spent listening to the trolley driver as he pointed out significant buildings and went on about their history. Robin listened with keen interest, and tried her best to memorize every word. The trolley turned around the corner and came to a roundabout where, in the center, there was a huge bronze statue. It was of a man standing atop a boulder, thrusting his sword to the sky. His cape flurried about him as his mouth opened to shout.

"And here is the statue of The Hero King," the trolley driver said over the intercom. "Legend says that over a millennia ago, this country was overruled by an evil dragon, who chased him away. Years later, he returned with an army to reclaim his country and vanquished the evil dragon." With a laugh, he added, "Now, of course, this is going by the legend. There were probably no dragons, but we have found plenty of evidence to support that there was in fact a battle here. There was also his mythical sword and shield, The Falchion and The Fire Emblem, but they were tragically lost to the ages."

Lucina gazed at the statue as she said to Robin, "I swear, I know a guy who looks just like The Hero King. His name's Marth and he was my tutor when I was a freshman. He was so cool..."

"Does he still go to your school?" Robin asked.

"What? No," Lucina scoffed, "He's a junior in college now. That senior class in general was just awesome. Marth aside, there was also Ike; they didn't like each other much though."

Robin nodded, still staring at the statue as they circled the roundabout to go back. The noble figure almost seemed lifelike, in a sense.

"You know," Lucina said, "you used to tell Cynthia and me that this statue was haunted. Like he was searching for the new Hero King to save this place again."

"I used to tell you that?" Robin considered. "Huh... didn't think I was one for superstition."

Lucina chuckled, "Of course you were. You had all sorts of little bobbles lying around for protection or whatever. Not to mention Henry's kinda got the knack for hexes, I guess... Or he used to, back before you guys had kids."

"You know, I'd say I don't believe you, but I'm willing to believe anything at this point." Robin replied. "Was he the only guy who did this sort of stuff?"

Frowning, Lucina shook her head. "No. There's this woman in town who runs a witchcraft shop, I think it's right up the road, actually-"

The trolley reached its final stop and Robin got up with an excited "Let's go then!" and quickly got off while Lucina called for her to wait. The senior got up and scrambled off after her. Behind them, the guide said something about being able to get back on at any time today. Robin took off down the street, her eyes darting for any indication of a witchcraft store. It wasn't long until she found a metal sign hanging:

 _"The Black Cauldron  
potions, supplies, and readings all here"_

Robin grinned ear to ear, glad she managed to not get lost, and entered the shop. She was immediately hit with the heavy smell of burning incense, and found it to be dimly lit inside. It was by no means a large space, and so the shelves and tables of items were packed together, giving the place a sort of claustrophobic feel. Towards one side was an alter, where candles were lit and numerous notes and small offerings had been left. And, on the other side of the store, was the counter, where a woman was carefully pouring over the words of some very thick tome.

The woman looked up, narrow eyes peaking up behind black bangs, and immediately froze in shock. Her voice was low, and carried a surprised tone. "Robin?" She fixed her shirt, and leaned onto the counter. "What are you doing here?"

Now that was the million bullion question, wasn't it? Robin wasn't even sure why she chose to charge on down here the second Lucina brought it up. Something just _willed_ her to do it. "Uh... hi... I was just..."

Lucina came into the store next, and sighed with relief. "Oh good, I found you."

This only served to further confuse the woman at the counter. "Wait, Lucina? What is even-?"

"It's a long story, Tharja," Lucina explained, not waiting for her to finish, "I'm very sorry to disturb you. Robin, we should leave."

Tharja looked between them and asked Robin, "I heard you were in the hospital. What happened?"

"I have no idea," Robin said rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly, "I honestly don't remember anything before waking up in the hospital on Monday."

This sparked Tharja's interest. "Oh, amnesia? I could... help you with that, you know."

Robin was intrigued by the offer. "You could? That would be so helpful, thank you."

Lucina piped up, "Wait, Robin, you shouldn't-!"

"Be quiet, child!" Tharja snapped, and waved her hand at the girl. "The grown ups are talking."

Lucina was about to give a heated response, but her mouth refused to open. Clearly distressed, she rushed out of the shop, leaving Robin with Tharja to talk.

With no clear direction in mind, Lucina ran down the street to find someone to help her. Tharja was a seriously creepy person, especially where Robin was concerned, and she didn't want to give her the chance to manipulate the amnesiac. What she needed to do was get Robin out of that store.

Out of nowhere, she slammed into someone full force, and knocked them both to the ground. Immediately, she recognized this person to be Henry, and quickly got off of him while making distressed motions.

Rubbing the back of his head, he sat up and stared at her behind his thick lashes. "Oh silly Lucina, are you trying to play charades or something?" He laughed in amusement, and turned his head to look around. "Hey, where's Robin?"

Lucina tugged at her hair in frustration and pointed at her mouth.

"Your mouth?" Henry gave her an odd look and then he figured it out. "Did someone shut your mouth or something?"

She gave a big nod.

Henry touched her lips with his thumb, as if to evaluate what was at work. "Hmm... looks like a hex." He grinned, "Bet I know who did it. Tharja hasn't changed at all!" At her annoyed expression, he laughed. "Don't look so grumpy, this shouldn't be hard to dispel. I am out of practice though, so there is the slight possibility that I might cave your whole mouth in."

Lucina's eyes widened in fear. _Oh for the love of Naga..._

He pinched his fingers close to her mouth and moved them across as if he were pulling a zipper and said, "That should do it!"

She experimentally opened and closed her mouth and sighed with relief. She got straight to the point, "Robin's talking with Tharja. I tried to get Robin to leave, but Tharja sealed my mouth shut."

Henry stood up and offered her a hand, which she accepted. "Well that's no good. We got lunch to go to." He then walked back up the street to Tharja's shop with Lucina just behind him. There, they walked in on what looked to be a very engaging conversation between the two women. When the door opened, Robin reflexively snapped her head up while Tharja bore perhaps the harshest death glare imaginable.

"Hi, Henry," Robin chirped. "So you're off for lunch now?"

"Yup," he replied as cheery as ever. He then turned his attention to the fuming shopkeeper. "Hello, Tharja, long time no see!"

If looks could kill, Lucina was certain that Henry would be petrified and turn to dust by now. Tharja's voice leaked with venom as she replied, "Yes, long time no see, no thanks to you walking out on me."

Robin looked between the two and asked curiously, "Walked out?"

"Oh, well Tharja and I used to raise hell in our college years," Henry casually answered, waving his hand as if to literally dust the subject off. "You know, cursing people, making hexes, raising hell... you get the idea!"

Tharja's eyes narrowed to a squint (unfortunately for her, it didn't rival that of Henry's) as she growled out, "And then you decided to ditch me to start teaching. And, not only that, but you so rudely stole Robin from me..."

Henry shrugged and grinned, "What can I say? I'm so charming, it's a curse! Nya ha ha!"

"I'll show you a curse..." Tharja threatened. "Get out."

Deciding it best not to test her, Henry guided Robin out and Lucina followed after them.

Unfortunately, before she could make her escape, Tharja called her out, "You, not so fast."

Lucina felt her throat go dry as she asked nervously, "Yes, ma'am?" Did she catch on?

"Where's Noire?" Tharja questioned.

"Huh?" Completely put off, she didn't think as she answered, "At school."

Tharja frowned and scoffed. "Damn girl is leaving me here to run the store alone..."

To this, Lucina replied, "School's required by law, she can't just not go."

"If school's required," Tharja glared down at her, "then why are you here?"

Lucina felt her heart slamming, and she hastily retreated from the store with a panicked goodbye. Henry and Robin waiting right outside for her, and Robin looked puzzled to see her so distraught. This, of course, was hastily disregarded by Lucina and she reminded them that they only had so much time to get lunch before Henry had to get back to work. They went straight down the street, eager to eat.

* * *

After Lucina dropped Robin off, she drove up to her house and discovered, much to her sudden fear, that her parents' car was home. _Did they get home early?_ she wondered with a growing sense of dread as she tried to stealthily open the door from the garage to the house.

She stepped inside, and carefully pushed the door shut. Creeping to the living room, Lucina peered about the space with a thumping heart and held breath before giving a sigh of relief when she found no one was there. School only barely ended, they couldn't possibly figure it out...

"You're late."

Frozen stiff by the voice of her father, she glanced to the dining room, where he sat at the table, staring firmly at her. _Oh shit..._

Chrom got up and entered the living room, his brows pinched in anger and his jaw twitching. "You lied this morning. There was no council meeting."

Lucina felt as if her heart simply stopped. "How did you...?"

"Cynthia called saying that nobody knew about any 'all day' meetings," Chrom stated icily. "You had us all scared to death. Now where were you?"

She looked down, suddenly ashamed. She should have thought this through better.

"Where, Lucina?" His voice becoming harsh. He never spoke to her like that before, and she shrunk in fear.

"I hung out with Robin and Henry..." she told him weakly. "She... wanted to see the town and I thought, since she was getting out today, that I could show her around."

There may have been some sense of sympathy that played in his eyes, but he remained firm. "We were worried sick about you. For all we knew, you could have been hurt or kidnapped. We spent hours searching high and low for you. If you wanted to take the day off then you should have told us and we would have called you out, at least them we would know where you are. Instead you impersonated me on the phone, lied, and took an amnesiac around the city. Something could have gone wrong, and then what would either of you do? You would get in trouble for being out of school and Robin has no idea what to do anymore."

"Father," she said weakly, "I'm sorry..."

He took a deep breath and concluded his lecture with a simple, "You're grounded. One week."

She swallowed hard and nodded, and decided she had this coming. Without another word, she slunk off to her room and fell down onto the bed, where she she sobbed into her pillow.

* * *

 _Some last minute things I should probably let you, my readers know:_

 _Yes, I am aware these chapters take me awhile to get out. I'm writing an original story which I hope to someday get published, so (naturally) I prioritize writing that over fanfiction. It's not that I don't like writing these fics for you people, I do, it's just that my life takes priority and I'm sorry that you have to wait so long on my account.  
Yes, Tharja and Henry can still use magic. There are certain elements from the games that I left intact, and those are the easiest to incorporate in this setting. No, Panne and Yarne aren't bunny people anymore. No, Nowi and Nah are not dragon people either. No, Minerva's not a dragon. And no, pegasi do not exist as pegasi. Curses, spells, and hexes get the all clear because people actually practice witch craft in real life and I feel like treating it like it works.  
And yes, other FE characters will make appearances throughout this fanfic. Otherwise this place is pretty freaking empty.  
I would also like to point out that, as far as plot goes, this one is a bit out there as it goes on. I want you all to bare with me on it. No, some elements are not realistic, and some characters do things which you really shouldn't do in real life, but I'm here to tell a story. I hope that everyone has the mental capacity to assess their own situation, but I will still point out where I know they wouldn't be able to pull something off in reality._

 _Thank you for your continued support and patience,  
Trigram_


	4. Chapter 4: A Redhead and A Tomboy

_A/N: This pairing was decided a little later, when I already weeded out a lot of potential suitors. That's not to say that this pairing is in any way bad. In fact, I found it very touching and sad. In the bunch of goofy, heartwarming, and innocent supports, there are a few the tragic ones._

 _Pairing Profiles: Tharja x Gregor_

 _~Where there is a female Robin, there is a battle between two guys for a lady to hold (unless Robin marries someone like Gangrel, then neither of them get hitched), and this usually boils down to Gregor and Ricken for me. So you need to ask yourself whether you want to ship the older man with a woman, or ship a little boy with some terrible implications (the child will end up being the same age as the others, so clearly whoever he married didn't wait long). Having decided that Ricken would remain single, this leaves Gregor.  
~Noire has basically the same issues with her parents as she would in the game. Her mother is abusive and her father doesn't have the nerve to stand up to his wife. So I was looking for a husband who actually would bend in this situation. To quote the FE wiki, Gregor is a lot easier to hurt emotionally_ _than he lets on, and ends up being intimidated by Tharja into working again should you marry them. Looking at Tharja's other paired epilogues, she doesn't really scare her other suitors.  
_ _~Gregor's got a very lovable personality. Simply put, he cares. For this story, I wanted a father who would lend his daughter that listening ear, ask her what's wrong, and yet not directly fight the source of her problems. Gregor wouldn't dare tell someone they're wrong, but he certainly seems the type to take blame and redirect Tharja's anger to him rather than actually confront her.  
_ _~"Oy! Future Gregor sound like pathetic man-child!"  
_ _~"Bye for now, Noire! Much love!"_

* * *

 _Under the jungle gym, a little redheaded girl was crying. Smashed to pieces before her was a doll. Its porcelain face broken open and limbs torn from the body and shattered. No one dared approached her, the witch's child, to offer her sympathy._

 _At least not until that early autumn afternoon, when a tomboyish girl came and sat down in front of her in the grass. The girl stared down at the many pieces of the doll, and asked, "What happened?"_

 _The smaller girl looked up with puffy red eyes, and sniffled. "T-they broke my doll..." She buried her face into her knees, embarrassed, and waited for the laughter._

 _"Did you break their faces?" asked the tomboy._

 _Though shocked by the question, the redhead hastily shook her head. "N-no! I could never!"_

 _"Well, then they'll never leave you alone." She remarked, then glanced around the playground. "Hey, where are they anyways?"_

 _Nervously, the redhead pointed out three boys who chatted away at the swing set with their friends. The redhead noticed the intensity of the tomboy's stare, as if she was trying to engrave their faces in her mind._

 _Just as suddenly as the tomboy showed up, she got up and left. However, the redhead already felt the sting of her loss lessen._

 _It was two days later that the bullies returned and tugged her by her pigtails, the third came at her with a pair of scissors. She screamed as he snipped the scissors shut by her ear, and the tugging on one side of her head ceased. She heard one of the boys give a victorious whoop, and spotted a fistful of red hair in his hand._

 _Out of the blue, the boy with the scissors went stumbling forward and fell face first in the dirt. Behind him, the tomboy lowered her leg. Her hands were curled into fists, and her eyes burned in anger. The redhead and the other two boys froze in shock._

 _"You boys make me sick!" The tomboy yelled. "If you don't clear out in five seconds, I'll flatten all of you jerks!"_

 _The boy to the redhead's left tugged on her pigtail, earning a shriek, and snapped, "You don't scare us, girly!"_

 _The other threw the fist full of hair to the ground and rushed at her. Her knee came up and collided directly to his groin. His eyes bulged and he collapsed on the ground, clutching himself in the grass._

 _That's when the remaining boy let the redhead go and threw a punch at the tomboy, which hit her cheek with a smack. A trail of blood trickled down from the tomboy's nose as she caught her balance from the blow, and rebounded back at him. Her fist struck him straight in the stomach, a blow which easily dropped him too._

 _The tomboy rubbed at the blood under her nose, and the redhead stared in absolute shock. The tomboy stepped over one of the boys, and, with that same hand she beat the boys up with, delicately touched the smaller girl's head. "It's going to be okay now." she assured._

 _The redhead stared with eyes filled with tears, and threw her arms around the tomboy. "Thank you! Thank you! Oh my gods, thank you so much!"_

 _"Woah, easy!" The tomboy stepped back, uncertain how to handle being hugged. "You don't need to thank me or anything, really."_

 _Very soon, the teachers found out and they were sent straight to the principal's office. Apparently, the other kids on the playground told on them for beating up the boys, who were sent to the nurse where they gave some sob story about being beaten up. For several minutes, the principal yelled at the two girls, his face turning beet red, until he stormed out of his office to call their parents. There was talk of suspension. The redhead cried the entire time while the tomboy sat with a look of indifference._

 _The redhead looked down at her lap guiltily and murmured, "I'm sorry... I got you in trouble."_

 _The tomboy glanced at the other and tipped her head to one side. "Don't be stupid. They deserved to get their butts kicked. I'm not scared of getting in trouble."_

 _Surprised, the redhead met her gaze and gave a teary smile._

 _The tomboy looked over to the principal's desk, where there was a jar of assorted pencils, pens, and office supplies; including a pair of scissors. She got up and plucked the scissors from the jar. She held them by the blade, down at her side._

 _This confused the redhead and she knitted her brows as she stared at her. "What are you doing?"_

 _The tomboy went back to her seat and turned her body towards her. "You look kinda silly with half your hair gone. Do you mind if I even it out?"_

 _Several seconds passed as the redhead sat there looking as if she was struck in the head. She answered quickly, her voice a squeak. "Okay. D-do it quickly!" She dropped her head down and squeezed her eyes shut, afraid to watch._

 _Those delicate hands took hold of her remaining pigtail and the large scissors closed over her hair with a loud snip. When the redhead looked up again, the tomboy was working the hair tie around the bundle of hair to keep it all together. "There. See? That wasn't so bad, was it?"_

 _The redhead nodded slowly. She gingerly touched her much shorter hair. It would take time to get used to it. Despite herself, she smiled._

 _The tomboy quickly replaced the scissors and sat back down. Then she thrust a hand out to the redhead. "My name's Kjelle, by the way."_

 _Hesitantly, the redhead took Kjelle's hand. "I'm Noire."_

 _"Well, Noire, I'll protect you. Forever." Kjelle told her with a smile. "That's a promise."_

 _Noire gave a shy smile as she replied, "Then I'll be your friend forever."_

* * *

Noire readjusted her hold on the tiny paper bag in her hand as she walked up the road back home. She knew she was very late for work and her mother wouldn't be happy in the slightest. However, she had been saving up for months for Kjelle's birthday present this year, and she only had a week before then. If she didn't get out and buy it today, then she doubted she would get another chance.

When she stepped into her mother's shop, the first thing she noticed was the intense glare fixed straight on her. Rage emanated off Tharja's very being as she loomed over the counter. "Where were you?" she growled.

Noire paled in fear. "I-I was just..." she fished for an excuse, as there was no way she'd be let off the hook if her mother knew she was shopping. "I g-got a detention."

Tharja looked positively baffled by this and narrowed her eyes, "For?"

"Ah, for...?" Noire panicked and blurted out, "I punched someone!" At this point, she hoped her mother wouldn't catch her lying and throw a truth curse on her... again.

Tharja sighed and propped her chin in her hand. "What? Did your friend beat someone up? Since when do you ever punch someone?"

"I-I did!" she stammered. "I gave him a bloody nose and everything!"

"And why didn't I get a call home about this?" Tharja questioned.

At this point, Noire blanched, knowing she was backed up in a proverbial corner. She gaped like a fish for several seconds and looked down.

"You know, I get very annoyed when I have to hex you to get the truth," Tharja stated, and produced a small talisman from her pocket. Her thumb struck over the glass surface, and she asked flatly, "Now where were you?"

"I was getting a birthday present," Noire answered, unable to stop herself, "for Kjelle..." She felt ill from the hex, and reflexively held her hand over her mouth.

Tharja sighed and put the talisman away. "There. Now was that so hard?"

Noire shook her head and felt tears sting her eyes. Her voice was weak as she asked, "H-how long is this hex supposed to last?"

Tharja tapped her jaw and answered flatly, "One week. Serves you right for lying." She straightened and pointed to the stairs to their apartment. "Now, go get in your uniform and get to work."

Noire didn't say a word as she slunk past her mother and went upstairs. In the cluttered living room, she found her father reclined on the couch. He seemed distracted, if the wayward look he had was any indication. _Or maybe buzzed_ , she considered when she noticed the beer can on the coffee table. She shut the door, which alerted him to her presence.

He looked her way and smiled in his usual friendly way. "Hello, Noire. How was day?"

"It was fine until I got home," Noire replied. She felt tempted to kick herself because she knew exactly where this would go now and had no way of stopping it short of locking herself in her room for a week and turning music on at full blast.

Her father knitted his brows as he inquired, "Your mother be making with the cursing again?"

Noire produced a whine as she tried to restrain herself from talking. Despite her best efforts to not answer, she ended up nodding.

"What is this curse being?" he asked.

At this point, she gave up fighting the curse's compulsion to answer. "A week-long truth curse. I lied about where I was and she put it on me as punishment."

"Be excusing," he said as he got up. "Gregor has business he must be making." With that, he left the apartment.

Noire shook her head, as she already had a good idea what that business was. She hated getting him involved.

All that she really could do at this point was do what she came up here for and get ready for work. She threw on the work tee shirt, and went back downstairs where she walked in on her parents arguing. Noire stepped back, fear curdling in her gut, as Tharja finally grew frustrated and shouted out a mess of words and waved her arms at him. Almost immediately, Gregor grabbed the counter to brace himself.

Tharja took a deep breath and told him flatly, "Go back upstairs. Call the bar and tell them you aren't coming in to work for the next few days." Her attention turned to Noire. "You're very lucky."

Noire nodded shakily. Her mother couldn't curse two people at once. Her father knew this and always came to her rescue.

Slowly, Gregor tried to stand, and stumbled. Noire rushed to his side to help him upstairs. He was certainly in rough shape, having broken into sweat and unable to walk straight. She got him upstairs and laid him down on the couch. He groaned and flopped a hand over his eyes.

"I'm sorry." Noire apologized, and held onto his hand. "What did she do?"

"Eh... is vertical...?" He frowned and mulled the word over aloud. "No... vermilion? The room will not quit with the spinning..."

"Vertigo?" Noire guessed. "Oh. I'm so sorry. You didn't have to do that."

"Do not be apologizing," Gregor sighed, and turned on his side. "Curse will wear off soon, yes? Is no problem."

Although Noire sincerely doubted that it would wear off soon, she knew it wouldn't last forever. After all, Gregor's bouncer job contributed a good portion to their income and Tharja knew better than to curse him with something more potent. Usually, Tharja ends up just dispelling her curses on him early so that he can just go back to work.

Noire got up and went back downstairs, since she still had work to do. There were several guys from her school peering around the store, and her mother was watching them with keen eyes. Noire awkwardly stood beside her mother, and took a deep breath to compose herself.

Those guys left without purchasing a single thing. That's how it usually was. People from her school came in, laughed at the "crazy voodoo nonsense" in the store, joked about the naked people on some tarot decks, and left (usually making a scene of breathing "fresh air"). Though infuriating, Noire never spoke out against it. Today was no different.

Three hours past uneventfully. The most interesting thing her mother said was that Lucina came in that afternoon with Robin, and then spent several minutes grumbling about how Henry got involved. Finally, Tharja sent Noire out to make a grocery run. She scurried out the front door and down the street. Night fell on the city, the darkness only pushed back by the glowing of the streetlamps and store lights. Her heart hammered in her chest and she found herself looking back and every which way. Despite the crowds of people around and the heavy road traffic, she oddly felt alone. That was what truly terrified her.

At the crosswalk, she once again looked around. The hairs on the back of her neck rose, and a chill rattled down her spine. Someone was watching her, she swore to the gods someone was. Whoever it was couldn't be far. In her panic, she rushed out into the street to cross.

There was a blaring from a trucker's horn and she was ripped from where she stood. She struggled against the arms wrapped around her and shrieked to be let go. She was spun around, those hands came to clasp her shoulder. She tried to pull away, her eyes were clenched shut and her hands pressed against the person's chest.

"Noire, _Noire_ , look at me!" It was Kjelle's voice. Noire froze and peaked up to see her friend paler than she ever seen her and her eyes wide. "You know better than to walk out into the road like that!"

Trembling like a newborn kitten, Noire nodded and meekly said, "I'm sorry."

"That guy almost ran you over," Kjelle added, "you're lucky I was here to pull you back in time."

Noire gave a small "Thank you." and twisted her hands together.

Kjelle calmed down, and put a hand on Noire's head to gently tussle her short hair. "Just try to be more careful next time." She dropped her hand back down to her side and glanced around. "So where are you headed?"

"To the grocery store," Noire answered, and felt relieved that her friend calmed down so quickly. "Mother is having me get things for dinner."

Her friend hummed and offered up, "I'll go with you, just to make sure you don't get run over, okay?"

Noire blushed and nodded. "O-okay. Thanks."

With that, they walked down the street together. Noire looked back once more and met the stare of a man in a dark purple jacket, who frowned before he sunk into an alley. Kjelle kept close, but looked more or less calm. "You know you shouldn't walk out alone at night, right?"

Noire wrung hands on the hem of her shirt. "I know."

"Those Grimleal thugs will nab you," Kjelle continued. "They've done it before."

"You mean twenty years ago when they kidnapped the governor? Emmeryn?" The redhead was met with a stern look from her friend. "I'll be more careful."

* * *

 _Cafeteria. Far left table by the exits._

It was a note Noire discovered at the bottom of her locker Monday morning. There was no name. Only a place. Whoever wrote the note even forgot a time, but one could assume that they meant during lunch time. For half the day, Noire was left imagining who this Anonymous was. She soon felt a fluttery panic at the thought that he (or she, she later thought) was looking to confess his love for her. Her face burned deep scarlet at the thought, and she slapped her face into her hands.

He would take hold of her hand and give her a dashing grin, the stubble on his jaw catching the sunlight. She would turn him down, and he would ask her in his low and silky voice why she rejects his deep and burning love. To this she would tell him that what he wishes is simply impossible, that they couldn't be together. He grabs her, and says that anything is possible with her, and kisses her tenderly on the-

"Uh, Noire?"

Noire jumped in her seat and looked at Kjelle with a startled "Huh?!"

"Did you hear anything the teacher said? There's a project." Kjelle informed.

Looking down, beet red and ashamed, Noire meekly said, "I know."

Kjelle sighed. "Is something up? You've been zoned out all day."

Noire bit her lip and wondered if she dare tell her friend about her secret admirer. What if she was envious? Finally, Noire came to the conclusion that Kjelle wouldn't be mad, it simply wasn't in her friend's nature to get bent out of shape over a guy. She swallowed her nerves and said, "I found a note in my locker this morning."

To this, Kjelle seemed curious. "Really? What did it say?"

"It said to meet them in the cafeteria at the far left table." Noire answered.

"You too?" Kjelle fished out a slip of notebook paper from her pocket, with those exact words written in the same handwriting.

"What?" _A Casanova?!_ Noire felt her fantasy curl up and die.

Kjelle jammed the paper back into her pocket. "Huh. Maybe this guy is calling a bunch of people to meet him."

 _Oh no!_ Noire buried her face back into her hands to conceal her vibrantly flush cheeks. "Oh gods! Whoever he is, he probably wants to date us!"

Soon the lunch bell rang, and the two walked down to the cafeteria together. Already there was a tall senior guy, Laurent. He skimmed through the page of his book behind the narrow lenses of his glasses, an almost bored expression on his face. Noire felt her heart start to slam, and she clutched Kjelle's hand.

Kjelle didn't pause and walked straight up to the table, she grabbed the note from her pocket. "Hey, cafeteria at the far left table. What the hell do you want?"

He looked up from his book. He gave a puzzled frown and he suddenly realized what she was talking about. "Oh, it seems you are mistaken, I-"

"Look, you creep, you don't mess with Noire." Kjelle interrupted him. "I don't care if you try something with me, I can break you in half, but you leave her out of it." She thrust a finger threateningly in his face. "You're a senior and we're not even sixteen yet, you sicko!"

He pulled something from his shirt pocket. This turned out to be a slip of notebook paper. "I believe there's been a misunderstanding. I received an anonymous note to meet someone at this table as well."

Kjelle lowered her hand. "Sorry. I probably shouldn't have assumed."

"It's quite alright," Laurent said and nudged his glassed back up. "Though I should warn you, there are a few others who also found these mysterious notes in their lockers."

Kjelle and Noire sat down across from him, and watched the crowd of students shamble in to get their lunch and find seats. One by one, ten others joined them at the table, all with the same notes. Noire was surprised that she recognized them all. Inigo and Brady were the next two, followed soon after by Severa. A minute passed before Yarne came over clutching his lunch and sitting on the far side of the table. Lucina arrived seeking answers and said little when none were given. Cynthia and Nah came together, along with Marc and Morgan. Just as the table started to get chatty, Gerome showed up and also sat at the far side of the table, prompting Yarne to scoot closer to the rest of the group to avoid his intimidating classmate. All of them were only here because of some mysterious note. By then, Noire's daydreams of Anonymous were thoroughly squashed.

Noire wondered if she should just leave, but then Owain arrived. "Greetings! I see you got my note." _Anonymous was Owain?!_

Gerome got up to leave.

"Hey, where are you going?" Owain questioned, confused.

Gerome glared down at Owain behind his dark sunglasses. "I didn't come here to listen to your nonsense."

"But, I had this really cool idea, I swear. Just sit back down and listen." Owain pleaded.

After several seconds of deliberation, Gerome relented and took his seat again.

Owain got back on track and returned to the end of the table. "So my idea is that we start a D&D club here at school. It'll be great!"

Unsurprisingly, Gerome got up and left.

Yarne piped up, "What's D&D?"

"Dungeons and Dragons," Marc answered, "it's a tabletop role-play game."

Severa got up and straightened her skirt. "Yeah, sounds lame, I think I'll pass. I got work after school anyways."

Brady nodded. "Same. I ain't really got time for clubs." He stood and followed Severa out.

Looking frustrated at this point, Owain asked the remaining people, "Does anyone else not have time?"

Yarne was juggling track team with work, Kjelle had mixed martial arts classes along with lacrosse tryouts, and Lucina and Inigo had work. These people, with varied degrees of apologies, left as well. This left Noire with four freshmen, Laurent, and an increasingly frustrated Owain. She knew there was no reason for her to stay either. Her mother never gave her a day off except for when the store closed on Sunday. "I don't think I would have time either." She said sadly. "I wish I could go, but my mom keeps the store open most of the week."

"I would need to know the day the club is held," Laurent added. "I have a couple days I could work with."

Owain sighed and looked over at the freshmen still sitting there. "And you four?"

"We're free," Morgan chimed, looping her arm over Marc's shoulder.

"Me too, I got nothing to do!" Cynthia proclaimed.

Nah shrugged. "I'm not all that interested, honestly." She got up. "I'll be back, I'm just getting lunch."

"Well that's four people," Owain said. He sat down. "So, we have the minimum required to make a club. Let's work out a day so that I can find a teacher to supervise."

Laurent nodded. "I have Monday and Wednesday. However, I would need to leave strictly at 4:30, because those days I work at 5."

"Okay, that's a start." Owain turned to Noire. "Are you sure your mom won't give you either of those days off?"

Noire clutched her hands together in her lap. "Well, we have next to no business on Wednesdays. I could try to convince her to close then. If that doesn't work though, then I can't come."

He smiled, very much grateful. "Alright, so Wednesdays. I'll give a rough estimate of time being after school until 5, but that really depends on who I get to supervise."

"I have a few suggestions for teachers, if you wish to check with them." Laurent offered.

The rest was history. The six spent the remainder of lunch planning out the club and its finer details. The eager students shared ideas up until the bell rang, and Noire left for her next class excited to get home and ask her mother to give her Wednesday off.

* * *

 _Again, sorry I'm so slow with updates. I've been meaning to write but got stuck for a while._

 _Another thing I'd like to note that'll be different than the game. The children all will be interacting here, meaning that even if they don't have a support, they're going to be friends or will be by the end of this fanfic. I honestly get frustrated with the children not having a lot of same-sex supports, even though they would just as enjoyable as their het supports. So expect all the children to talk or interact with everyone at some point._

 _Thanks for reading!  
Trigram_


	5. Chapter 5: The Justice Cabal!

_Pairing Profiles: Lissa x Vaike_

 _~Lissa and Vaike come across as more familiar with each other. This is more what I was going for in terms of Owain's parents. Not steamy and romantic, but rather friendly and cooperative.  
~Translating characters to their more modern roles, Vaike was made a police officer based on the fact that in the game he has a desire to make his hometown a better place. A cop and a nurse make big role models for a child.  
~Vaike's a high energy guy, which I felt made him a very fitting father for Owain.  
~Owain's "blood of heroes" shtick makes a lot of sense if it comes from Vaike, who also wanted to be a legendary fighter.  
~Look at that hair. Owain looks freaking great with blond hair._

* * *

Mornings were always a quiet time for Owain. In the stretch of time before Owain left for school, his dad was getting ready for work and his mom was barely awake. Quiet, however, didn't mean cold. Whether it was a simple good morning, or Vaike having a cup of tea ready for Lissa, they seldom left each other on a sour note.

Owain waited for his toast, or rather he put the bread in the toaster and preoccupied himself with the sunrise outside the window. The horizon glimmered a pale gold that chased the dark blues westward, leaving subtle tints of orange and pink in their wake. A faint mist had settled over night, hiding away distant mountains. His attention turned to the quivering of a tree branch, only for the the sound of the toaster to snap him back to what he was doing. He plucked the toast out quickly, as the two slices of browned bread were still hot, and dropped them on his plate.

He went to get some jam when his dad walked into the kitchen. "Mornin' Owain."

"Morning." Owain replied and put the the jam on the counter next to his plate of toast. Vaike was looking for the bread.

"Did ya take your meds?" Vaike asked, finding the bag of bread.

"Huh? No, I didn't." Owain realized and rushed off to go do just that. He knew by now that if he forgot to then he'd get an ear full from Lissa when she got home in the evening. When he came back he grabbed his toast and sat at the table.

He was about to take a bite of his toast when his dad asked, "Owain, did you leave the jam out?"

"Yeah, sorry!" He went back in and grabbed the jam. He brought it with him to the table and spread it on his toast, then returned the jar to the refrigerator. "Hey Dad, I'm starting a club at school."

Vaike wore a look of genuine surprise at this. "You are now? What about your schoolwork?"

Owain frowned. "I've been doing it."

"All of it?"

"Yes, all of it."

"And you've turned it in?"

Owain almost answered yes, but then wondered if he really did turn all his assignments in. As far as he cared to remember, he did, but he has been wrong before. "I... think so?"

Sighing, Vaike shook his head. "How can you even expect to run a club if you can't even keep up with your assignments?"

"I can handle it just fine," Owain said and grabbed his backpack. "I'm off. See you later, Dad."

Vaike called him before he could get out the door. "Owain? Did you finish your toast?"

Owain hit his head on the door and bound back to the dining room where his toast was left untouched. He shoved one piece in his mouth and grabbed the other. This time he made it out the door without any further reminders.

* * *

For most of the morning, Owain went from teacher to teacher asking them if they'd be interested in supervising his club. All of them so far declined, with varied excuses, and he was slipping into frustration as he went to his first class of the day: Chemistry. His teacher, Ricken, was his last hope. If he couldn't convince him to supervise the club, then there was nothing he could do.

He waited until the end of class to confront his teacher. When the bell rang, his classmates filtered out of the room and Owain strode up to Ricken, who was erasing the whiteboard. "Teacher?"

Ricken paused and glanced over at him. "Yes, Owain? Do you need help with the material?"

"No, it's not that," Owain said. To this, Ricken seemed unsurprised. Owain never came to him for help anyways. "I'm trying to start a club, would you like to be the supervisor?"

That however, was surprising. The teacher lowered his arm from the board and dropped the eraser in the metal tray. "A club? What kind of club do you mean?"

This was the embarrassing part. Owain presented his notebook to the teacher. Ricken looked from him to the notebook and took it. He flipped it open to the first page where it read in cartoony bold lettering:

 _Dungeons and Dragons  
_ _Rule Book_

Owain fidgeted when Ricken stared at that first page for much longer than he felt was necessary. "It's a tabletop role-play game. You build a character and-."

"I know." Ricken stated and turned the page.

"Wait, you do?" Owain stared, wondered if his ears deceived him.

Ricken hummed in response. "I used to play back when I was in college." His brow pinched. "Did you modify the rules? These look a bit different than what I remember."

"Oh yeah." Owain scratched the back of his neck. "I made a special set of rules for a campaign I wanted to do. Why? Are they bad?"

Ricken went to the next page. "No, far from it. These are some crazy formulas you're working with. Why can't you do this stuff in class?"

Owain didn't know how to answer that. He fumbled with an excuse, but ended up saying "D&D interests me."

"Do you have anyone who's willing to join the club?" Ricken asked and closed the notebook to pass back to his student.

"I have 5 people who are interested," Owain said and took his notebook back. "Do you have Wednesday free?"

Ricken smiled. "Sure do."

A flutter of excitement beat in his chest. "So will you do it?"

"I will, on one condition." Ricken gave Owain the most serious of looks. "You're failing this class. Now I'm willing to help in any way I can, so how about this; you represent chemistry as accurately as you can and write down your work for all these formulas that you have to do. I will count it as extra credit."

"Sure, I can do that!" Owain clenched his notebook in his hands and resisted the urge to jump for joy. "Thank you, Teacher."

"It's no problem." Ricken waved off and picked up the eraser to clear the rest of his whiteboard. "Honestly, I think this might be a good opportunity for you to commit to a long term project, so I'm happy to help."

The bell rang, signalling the start of 2nd period. Owain cursed under his breath and rushed for the door. "Sorry! I got to get to class, thanks again!" If Ricken gave a response, Owain didn't hear it. He ran down the hall and swung up the stairs to his next class, which he was inevitably late for. He came in, all eyes on him, took a deep breath, and sat in the only open seat left. Next to Inigo.

The teacher gave him a withering glare and questioned, "Is there any particular reason you're tardy this time, Owain?"

Owain bit the inside of his cheek. "I was speaking with my chemistry teacher."

"Do you have a note?" She inquired.

He looked down. "No, ma'am."

Despite looking peeved, the teacher said nothing else and continued to discuss the homework. Inigo tapped Owain's wrist and whispered, "Was he lecturing you about missing homework?"

Owain narrowed his eyes at him and ducked down to pick the homework out from his backpack. Just as quietly, he responded, "Ha ha. No. I was asking him if he was going to supervise my club. He said yes."

"You mean you weren't joking about that," Inigo asked.

"No, I wasn't." Owain pulled out the papers and lay them on the desk. "It's going to be a great club, you should really consider joining."

Inigo sighed. "I think I already made myself clear. I have plenty of better things to do than play games with a bunch of guys."

"Oh, yes, how could I forget. Rosie must miss you dearly." Owain retorted. "Please, tell Lady Palms I said 'hello.'"

Inigo fumed and grumbled, "Well, I'd much prefer her company to yours."

"Excuse me, gentlemen," the teacher interrupted, "is this conversation something you would like to share with the class? If not, then I ask that you kindly be quiet so everyone can follow along."

"Yes, ma'am." The two said in unison.

Owain kept quiet after that and eagerly awaited lunchtime to find his small group. He wanted to tell them that he had a supervisor who would hold the club on Wednesdays. Until then, he filled out the rest club proposal form. Already, he had wrote out the club description, and so he dove into writing the names of beginning members, the supervisor, and the club president. The last thing to do was write a justification for the club, what it was aiming to do and how it'd help students who joined. He scribbled down that it was _"a group building activity that also teaches creative thinking and problem solving"_ and hoped that this would suffice. After his math class, he handed the form in to the main office. When lunch finally swung around, he gathered the other five and happily announced the good news to them.

"That's great, Owain." Morgan said with a smile.

"Yes, good work." Laurent agreed, folding his hands over a scholarship application. "I expected you to take longer finding a supervisor than you did."

Owain basked in the glory of completing his task and then got back to business. "There's one last thing that I'm going to need to know right now." He turned to Noire, who shrunk awkwardly at the attention. "Did you ask your mom about taking Wednesdays off?"

Noire peeked up and nodded. "I did. Somehow I managed to convince her to close the shop on Wednesday." A proverbial shadow fell over her face, and she slumped in exasperation. "Of course, she now opens on Sundays instead. I guess it's better than nothing."

"Perfect!" Owain gave her a pat on the back, startling her stiff. "You did good."

"Thank you," she peeped, face red as her hair.

Owain pulled a pen from his pocket and held it high above his head. "And now, my fellow adventurers, I hereby dub thee the..." Owain trailed off, a pause that didn't go unnoticed by the others. "Er..." He hardly expected that he'd ever get this far, and so a name for their band of nerds managed to slip until now. He lowered his hand, suddenly feeling foolish.

 _They probably think I sound like an idiot now..._

"Dragon Slayers?" Morgan suggested, surprising him.

"No," Marc disagreed, "how about The Talented Triad?"

"But there's six of us!" Morgan snapped back.

Laurent proposed "The Sorcerer Saints?"

"The Tarot Rangers?" Noire offered quietly. It didn't seem like she was even heard over the rising commotion at the table.

Names started getting thrown left and right by the group members. All of them except for Cynthia, who seemed to be thinking really hard about it, and Owain, who found himself at a loss of words. He started to wonder if a teacher might come over to their table and tell them to calm down, especially since their voices only got louder by the second.

"The Justice Cabal!" Cynthia exclaimed.

Everyone shut up and stared at Cynthia as this name sunk in. After several seconds, Laurent pushed up his glasses. "It sounds silly."

"Well yeah, but we should fight for justice and all, right?" Cynthia replied. Where most people would give up and admit that it was a stupid idea, maybe even say to forget it, she smiled brightly and stood firm by her suggestion. "After all, we are the heroes, right?"

"I think it sounds pretty cool." Marc agreed, to which his sister nodded.

Noire raised her hand a little and piped up, "I like it too."

Laurent looked between the three freshmen and sophomore and sighed. A small smile pushed at his lips, and he chuckled. "Childish as it may sound, I suppose it does possess a unique charm to it."

"Yeah, it does doesn't it." Owain agreed. He held the pen high over his head. "And so, I dub thee The Justice Cabal: Cynthia the Brave," -Cynthia fist pumped excitedly- "Morgan the Terror," -Morgan blinked, surprised by the name, and grinned- "Marc the Kind," -Marc turned a little pink and laughed childishly- "Noire the Meek," -Noire sunk down- "and Laurent the Brain. We, The-!"

"Wait!" Morgan interrupted. "What about your title?"

"I already have one: Owain the Awesome!" To the lack of enthusiasm, he added, "It's a working title." He got back on track. "We, The Justice Cabal, swear to serve as heroes for the weak and lost. We will become beacons of hope and light for those who lost their way. May we stand for the innocent, and defend them! May the dice be ever in your favor, fellow adventurers, and may your bounty and experience be plentiful!"

The group gave a cheer and Owain sat down beside Marc, who laughed after the speech. "I think half the cafeteria was watching you."

"Good, all the better," Owain replied, "we might get more club members."

"Did you intend to convince more people to join?" Cynthia asked with her head tipped curiously to one side. "Won't it be hard to manage a game with a lot of players?"

Owain shrugged. "Eh, I'll figure that out when I get there." The bell rang, signalling the end of lunch, and they all got up to go to their respective classes. Before they could leave, Owain called after them, "Remember, the first meeting will be next week!" He shifted the weight of his backpack on his shoulder and grinned. He couldn't believe this was actually happening.

 _The Justice Cabal,_ he thought to himself, _not my first choice, but I'm glad they like it._

* * *

What was the line between looking around and snooping?

Surely Morgan crossed that line when she went into her mom's study and started going through the papers on her desk. Since Robin had amnesia, she didn't remember that she never liked her kids looking through the assorted files and notes that she kept in barely contained folders about her office. Morgan knew it was wrong of her to take advantage like this, but curiosity demanded answers more than respect begged honesty.

The papers were now scattered about the desk and at this point she decided that a vast majority of it was honestly her mom's work. Notes on historical documents and loosely constructed timelines that would someday become full narratives to be used in textbooks or nonfiction books. There were a few other things, notes-to-self and discarded grocery lists. Morgan sighed, having exhausted all the files in the room and decided it best to put everything back to how she found it. No doubt her dad would spot the study in a state of disarray and she'd be in trouble otherwise.

"Sis?"

At the sound of Marc's voice, she swung around, knocking the phone and a cup of pens off the desk. They hit the floor with a clatter that only served to further startle her. Wide-eyed and heart slamming, she stared at her brother.

Marc nervously toyed with the hem of his sweatshirt. "We're not supposed to be in here. What are you doing?"

She took a deep breath to calm down and looked down at all the pens scatted on the floor, and the phone, its headset and body only tethered by the coiled cord. "I was just... Mom acted like she was hiding something, and I wanted to know." With a sigh, she bent down to pick up the pens. "There's nothing here though."

To Morgan's surprise, Marc stepped to the desk and started replacing the papers. "Why did you think Mom would hide something?"

"I don't know." She grumbled, dropping the pens into their cup and replacing it on the table. "I guess I just thought that there would be something here. A clue or anything. Then, maybe, I could find out what happened to her."

Marc paused to give her a pointed look, furrowing his brow and lightly frowning. "What? Like she knowingly walked into the incident? I want to find out what happened too, but Mom wouldn't do something that stupid." He returned to sorting the files.

Morgan picked up the phone and put it back where it was, then joined her brother in the mighty task of reorganizing the files back to where they were before Morgan tore this room apart. "I know." Her nose crinkled and her eyes stung as her emotions bubbled forth. All she could do was rub her eyes on her sleeve and hope he didn't notice. "I just want things to be okay again." She sniffled and turned away from the papers, lest she accidentally ruin them.

Arms came to embrace her from behind, and she felt Marc nuzzle his face into her back. "Don't cry. Please?" His voice cracked on the last word, and he gave a whine.

She once again blotted her eyes with her sleeve and bottled up her tears. "Don't you start crying then." She squirmed out of his grip and petted his white, downy head. "We'll be okay."

Marc nodded and peaked up with tears at the corners of his eyes. He put on a smile and nodded, already starting to look like his normal self again. Suddenly, his attention diverted to the floor. She glanced down at what he was looking at to see some tiny piece of paper she missed. Marc stepped around her and picked it up. However, the moment he caught sight of what was on that piece of paper, he froze.

Morgan frowned at this, confused, and peered at it over his shoulder. She too stopped still and did a double take, unable to truly believe what she read.

 _9/17 5:15 P.M._

"This is..." Marc trailed off.

"The day of the incident." Morgan finished.

* * *

 _I would just like to say that I am so sorry that this chapter took me so long. I got majorly side tracked by everything. But for now, that's no more. This month is NaNoWriMo and I intend to give this fanfic some love.  
Also, concerning Owain, yes, I gave him ADD. While I do intend to portray that as faithfully to real life as possible, and I have done research, anyone who's willing to tell me about their experiences with this disorder is invited to school me here. Really. Please. Do. I'm inviting you guys to tell me about your experiences with this, if you're dealing with it.  
So anyways, thank you for your support so far, and I'll see you next chapter. Hopefully that won't take nearly as long for me to get out._


	6. Chapter 6: Inverse

_There's a lot I could say for this pairing here. As a whole, it's so fitting that it gets to the point where it starts to feel like an intended ship. Of course, it lacks the canon backup of Chrom x Sumia, but what this family does have is just as strong as those two. Yes, I know some people like to ship Olivia with Chrom, but the game practically lampshades how outlandish it is for Chrom to fall head-over-heels in love in just one battle. Considering he seems like the oblivious type, I doubt he'd fall for a girl this fast. We're not talking about that ship though. That was sunk the minute you got on here._

 _Pairing Profiles: Olivia x Virion  
_

 _~Yes, I know Virion would flirt with anything that looked remotely beautiful or has two X chromosomes, but he shares a particular chemistry with Olivia. While he may still be flattering, he does something he doesn't tend to do and give her space when she starts feeling uncomfortable. For once, his flattery goes to someone who desperately needs a confidence boost.  
~By the time you reach their A support, Olivia's already falling for him. If she's already married then it's kinda like the "wife cheating with the yoga instructor" situation, but if not then this crush comes across as sweet. As far as I remember, people in this game don't tend to reach that infatuation (except Chrom and Sumia) until their S support, where they suddenly admit to loving that person the whole time. There's no Schrodinger's Love Interest. You know that she's taken a liking to him before they even get proposed.  
~Virion as Inigo's dad would definitely explain a few things about Inigo's skirt chasing. I know it's explained in game as Olivia's doing, but here it could be that when Ingio was a child and trying to talk to girls, he ends up going to his father for help. Who better to ask for help than your skirt chasing father when it comes to picking up chicks?  
~One of Inigo's phrases is "I'm a man of passion." Interestingly enough, Virion happens to say those exact words (to Olivia in their C support no less), making this line either a shared quirk or a sad implication that Virion said this in the future and Inigo adopted the phrase after his death._

* * *

 _Okay, Inigo, today's the day you pick up some chicks. You may have struck out before, but not this time. Because you got nice hair, you smell nice, and damn you are one nice ass-_

...

"I can't believe she turned me down!" Inigo cried as he bent over the bathroom sink to wash chocolate milk out of his hair. For pete's sake, of all the things Severa had to pour on his head, it had to be some questionably old dairy product that will stink up in a few hours. She just had to, didn't she?! A simple "no" would have been fine.

"Looks like another date with the right hand." Someone, Owain, called from one of the stalls.

Inigo hit his head down on the rim of the sink. "Shut up, you!" With his head and shoulders thoroughly soaked, he attempted to dry off as much as he could with paper towels. This, unsurprisingly, wasn't very effective.

By then, Owain got out of the stall and gave Inigo a pointed look. "You look like a drowned cat."

"Very funny," Inigo deadpanned, finding himself at a low supply of patience at the moment. "Just leave me alone."

Owain shrugged and passed him.

Deciding it best not to go back to the cafeteria, Inigo went to find somewhere he could hole up until his next class. This, of course, wound up being the music room. Since there was no class at that point, the room was empty save for the many instrument cases by the wall and a few chairs pushed to the back. All in all, it was pretty quiet. A perfect place for him to let off some steam.

He stepped to the middle of the room and took out his phone and a pair of ear buds. Pushing the buds in, he flipped around in his music library and picked a random song. With a deep breath, he tapped his heel to establish the beat and then began to dance. He remembered his mother's steps, the classes she taught were perhaps the best in the city, especially with her husband at her side as co-teacher. One day, he hoped to be as graceful as her, to captivate crowds with such elegant moves, but that would take many years of practice.

All too soon the song came to an end, and Inigo stopped a moment to take a breath. However, before the next song could play, he caught the sound of something else outside his ear buds. He paused that next song and looked to the source of this other music. Off to the far side of the room, well out of his way, was Brady playing away on a violin, a careful eye on his fingers as they worked the strings and bow.

Inigo felt his face burn and he tugged out his ear buds. How could he have missed his classmate entering the room? He called out harshly, "What are you doing?"

Brady paused and glanced up from the instrument. "I'm practicin', what the hell do ya think I'm doing?"

"You can't just come in here when someone's trying to dance! Have you no respect for a man's privacy?!" Inigo snapped.

Brady swung his bow in Inigo's face. "Now listen here, you were too busy listening to your music to notice me walk in here in the first place! And you didn't notice me playing for the last four minutes. I ain't allowed to play in the halls, so you're just going to have to suck up and adjust or beat it."

The two boys glared each other down for several seconds until Inigo finally caved and went to slump into one of the chairs. "I can't believe you just saw me dancing... Ugh, this is so freaking embarrassing."

"You got no damn reason to be embarrassed. You dance nice," Brady told him. "Besides, it wasn't like I was giving you my undivided attention either."

Inigo slumped even lower, his spine almost taking on the properties of a wet noodle in the process.

"Look, there ain't no reason for you to stop dancin'," Brady went on, "I still got to practice but the company's fine."

"You really weren't paying attention?" Inigo asked, glancing up at the other.

"'Course not." Brady answered. He then brought the bow back up and rested the end of the violin against his neck. Delicately, he lay the bow against the strings and drew it across, rousing a sharp note, followed by several more until he strung together another tune. Brady's bow dragged back and forth while his fingers danced along the neck.

Whether or not it was an actual song or one he was making up, Inigo wasn't sure, but he couldn't deny that it sounded wonderful. He soon noticed his foot tapping to the beat. His legs itched to move again, and yet he remained planted to that metal chair simply to avoid making a bigger fool of himself.

Brady peaked up from his hands and took note of this, and the song slowed down. Still playing, he said over the music, "Just dance, would'ya?"

Once again, Inigo's face burned. How could he just let this happen? He'd embarrass himself even more if he got up, but it would be rude to just sit there like some sour child. Brady somehow managed to pin him between two choices and for once Inigo couldn't decide which would be easier. _Oh fuck it!_

Inigo shot up from his seat and went to the middle of the room. He took a moment to listen to Brady's music, getting down the beat in his mind, then threw himself into a dance. He moved with what he hoped to be grace as he went through various ballet moves. The soles of his shoes glided on the freshly waxed floor, aiding his spins and twirls. Soon he grew bold, and quickened his movements. He took two steps to gain momentum for another spin, but instead of turning on his toes, his feet shot up from under him.

Next thing Inigo knew, he was lying on the floor, the wind knocked out of him and his back in pain. He heard Brady say something from off to the side and suddenly saw the boy right over him, eyes wide.

"Shit, are ya okay?" Brady exclaimed. "You didn't hit your head, did ya?" He tried to help Inigo up, but stopped when the older hissed.

"I-I'm fine," Inigo said, managing to breathe again. "Really, could be worse."

Brady gave a tight frown. "Maybe you should go to the nurse. You coulda really messed up your back."

"No, just let me relax," Inigo insisted, pushing Brady away. That's when he saw _her_.

Standing at the door, spectating this whole mess, was Severa. Now she seemed to notice Inigo's attention fall on her and she turned to leave with a "I'll just leave you to your boyfriend."

Both Inigo and Brady's faces became red when she said that, but all Inigo could do was stammer. "W-wait, what?!"

* * *

Kjelle was putting her gym bag away in her locker when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned and saw Severa standing just behind her, and pulled one of the headphones off her ear. "What?"

As soon as the sound of Kjelle's music became audible, Severa glared at the headphone. "You're going to go deaf if you keep listening to that crap so loud. I could already hear it."

Kjelle shrugged and put the headphone back on as she grumbled, "Well it's better than the wangst fest you listen to." Then she shut her locker and walked the other way. Once again though, Severa tapped her on the shoulder and she groaned internally before turning off her music all together. "What?"

Severa looked a tad bit too pleased about something, and the fact that she was smiling like a Cheshire cat wasn't helping. "Oh I just made an interesting little discovery. I saw Inigo and Brady totally frenching in the music room."

 _Did I even hear that one right?_ Kjelle crossed her arms and stared Severa down. "Uh-huh? I call bullshit. What did you really see?"

Severa's smile quickly vanished. "What? That is what I saw."

"Severa," Kjelle pressed.

"Okay, so it wasn't, but I did see them in the music room together." Severa amended. "I was going to apologize for crushing my milk on Inigo's head and walked in on them."

Having got the truth from her, Kjelle made to step around the older girl. However, she was blocked. She sighed. "Why should I care?"

"Come on, Kjelle, think," Severa urged. "Inigo's always hitting on us, and frankly I've had about enough. This is our chance to smack him back in line."

"And what about Brady?" Kjelle questioned.

Severa shrugged, "Necessary casualty."

Kjelle pinched the bridge of her nose. Severa did have a point, Inigo was a huge pain in the ass and deserved a sweet slap of karma. This was a golden opportunity if there ever was one. "I'm not helping you spread rumors." Kjelle told her. "But I won't say anything if I hear this one again."

To this, Severa smiled again. "Perfect."

* * *

When the bell signaled the end of the day, Marc was pulled off sideways by Morgan before he could get on the bus. Her face was constrained to a taut frown, determination glimmering in her eyes. He felt his stomach flutter with nervousness, knowing full well what she was about the say.

"Come on, we're going to investigate," she told him. Her hands took hold of his and she pulled him along. "Someone around there has to know something."

Marc gave a whine and considered tugging his hands away. "Morgan, this is really, really stupid. We should be calling the police."

"Why? So they can contemplate whether or not they're going to act on it?" Morgan shot back. "Think, it's a single note with not a lot on it, do you think that the police will care?"

To this, Marc planted his feet to the ground and managed to get his sister to stop. "But we could get hurt, or worse."

Morgan gritted her teeth. "What? Are you scared? You can go home and let me search by myself." She let go of his hand and crossed her arms. "Are you with me or not?"

No less uneasy, Marc stumbled to find a response. "Y-you know I can't let you go alone!"

"Then stop being a baby and come with me," Morgan said sternly, "because you can't stop me."

There was no more debate on the matter, as Morgan turned to leave and Marc followed. He never thought it possible for them to conceive such a poorly constructed plan. There they were though, leaving the school alone and walking down to the place where Robin was found Monday last week. It's a long walk, but Marc figured they would take the trolley some of the way.

The city almost seemed to never rest. It rushed with thousands upon millions of cars and semis in the downtown district, constantly shined with lights, and blared with noise. Ylisstol High School was situated at the heart of this chaotic sprawl. The public library wasn't more than twenty blocks away and the place Robin was found was another several blocks away from there. Marc found that place strange, as Robin always walked straight home after work and the place she was found was so out of the way of her usual route. However, if she did have some arranged meeting and she deliberately went that way then that changed the nature of her incident significantly.

A mugging, that's what the media outlets theorized about this. If she went to that spot on her own accord and met someone though, did that mean that she was set up? Marc was nauseated by the thought.

Marc glanced at his phone for the time. _3:26_. Their dad will probably start to wonder where they are in another half hour. Despite the fast pace Morgan set, they wouldn't be able to check the scene and get home before then. He'd just need to deal with the inevitable call when it came.

When they arrived around the area, the twins pulled up their hoods and kept to the side to avoid drawing attention. People walked right past them without a second thought, allowing them to search around. As Morgan turned to slip into one of the alleyways, Marc grabbed her wrist to stop her. "Do you even know what we're looking for?"

Morgan blinked, seeming perturbed by the question. "Yeah, of course I do. Maybe the culprit dropped something or-"

"The cops would have already grabbed it," Marc pointed out. "The dumpsters have already been cleaned out and if by some insane lapse in logic it was missed, then whatever was left was kicked away. We won't find anything."

"-Or someone saw something," Morgan finished, her nose crinkling. "Maybe someone hangs out here a lot." She looked around and pointed to a man leaning against a telephone pole, with arms like oaks and covered in tattoos. "Like that guy."

Marc once again grabbed her wrist and pulled it down. "Are you trying to get us killed? He could probably snap us in two, so let's not bother him."

"Do you have any suggestions then?" She shot back.

There were people all over the place. Marc's attention settled on an old woman engulfed in purple cloth sitting on a metal bench not far away. "What about her?"

Morgan frowned at the sight of the elder. "Fine." She then strode up the bench, Marc at her heels. She sat down beside the woman, but didn't immediately speak up. Her hands coiled into fists on her lap and she took a deep breath. "Excuse me, ma'am?"

The old woman glanced their way, drooping eyes on the two. "Yes?"

"Do you hang out around here often?" Morgan asked.

To this, the old woman glanced around. "Why yes, I believe I'm here more often than not."

Morgan fidgeted where she sat. "D-do you ever see anything strange happen around these parts?"

"Strange?" The woman repeated, her knotty fingers gently drumming on her leg. "If by that you mean shifty dealings, then of course. There are plenty of unsavory sorts who come through here. However, you are going to need to be more specific."

"Last Monday at around 5 P.M. a woman was found here unconscious and was taken straight to the hospital." Marc said. "Do you know anything about that?"

The old woman turned her attention down to the pavement as if the answer lie there. "Was she Plegian with white hair?"

"Yes, that's her!" Morgan confirmed, nearly shooting up from her seat. "You saw?"

"What is it to you two?" She questioned, her voice slow. "You seem a bit young to be leading any official investigation."

The twins exchanged a look as they deliberated over an answer, and Marc told her, "We're... close to the victim."

There was a knowing twinkle in the woman's eye and she smiled ever so slightly. "I see." She raised a finger and beckoned them to come in closer. The twins leaned in and she dropped her voice down to a whisper. "I saw a couple of thugs drag her here, but she was already in rough shape. Once they realized I was here, they were quick to leave. I called up an ambulance after that, but I didn't stick around."

"Why didn't you stay to make sure she was okay?" Morgan asked.

"Because I know that I will be badgered by the police," she answered with a shrug. "When you get to be my age, it gets to be too much trouble to deal with the authorities." The old woman stood, pulling her shawl tightly about herself, and leaned heavily on a wooden cane. "I must be on my way, but please, children, say nothing of our chat. I want to remain as uninvolved as possible from this point on."

Marc smiled. "Sure, thanks!"

"We appreciate what you did," Morgan added.

Before the old woman could vanish, Marc realized, "Wait, you never told us your name!"

The woman looked back at them and chuckled. "It's Niime." With that, she slipped off and out of sight like a shadow.

The twins exchanged ear to ear smiles and high-fived each other, overjoyed by their victory. Marc couldn't believe they actually got information like that, it was incredibly good fortune that they found her, that Niime helped Robin. _Maybe, just maybe coming out here was a good idea after all._

"My my, are you two lost?" A silken voice questioned just behind them. Marc swung around and found himself face to fa- well, bosom with a tall woman dressed in a finely tailored, lowly buttoned blouse.

 _Oh my..._ Marc's face flushed and he stammered out a "H-h-hello ladies!"

The woman before him giggled, twirling a long strand of her white hair around her finger. "Aren't you a cute little boy."

A hand grabbed Marc's hoodie and yanked him backwards. He stumbled into Morgan, who stared up at the woman with clear caution. "Hi. Can we help you, ma'am?"

Now a few steps back, Marc could now plainly see that this woman was a Plegian like them. Her skin was a rich tan and her full, pale painted lips quirked in a subtle smile. Marc knew he was missing something, after all the boys liked to snicker about girls in middle school, but he never paid it that much mind until...

"Marc?!" Morgan snapped in his ear, startling him.

" _What_? What?" Marc shot up straight and faced his sister, fully aware that he was cherry red.

"I got this handled, right?" Morgan said, probably repeating something she told this woman while Marc was distracted.

Marc blinked and absorbed the question. "I... uh..." He scratched his head. "I mean, you really have no idea what you're doing."

Morgan stomped her foot on the ground and crossed her arms. "I do too!"

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, my little sister's not very bright," Marc told the woman, hoping she would let this all go.

"You're only older by 11 minutes, you jerk!" Morgan snapped.

The woman watched the two in what Marc only guessed to be amusement. "Regardless, you're a couple of children poking around in matters that should be left up to the police. You should head home before you get yourselves hurt."

"Morgan, she's right," Marc agreed.

Despite that, or perhaps in spite of them, Morgan glared up at the woman and questioned, "Give me one good reason why this place is dangerous."

"If you need one, then how about the fact that gangs like to dump bodies off here." The woman said plainly. "It's one of those problems our _spectacular_ governor fails to address. But that should change if Gangrel can take office."

That's when Marc recognized her, that woman who always seemed to be by Gangrel's side, or at least never far away. "Wait, you're Gangrel's adviser."

She smirked. "Why yes. I was wondering how long that would take. The name is Aversa."

Morgan shrunk back slightly. "Wait, you're with the crazy candidate?"

"I prefer to see myself as the filter on Gangrel's antics, but yes." Aversa replied. "I assure you he does have his reasons. Take this city's nasty underground for example, Gangrel wants to uproot it whereas Chrom brushes the issue aside. Unlike our current governor, he's willing to confront those gangs. I am simply helping the man be more persuasive."

It sounded sensible enough. Marc tipped his head to his sister when his phone suddenly rang. He pulled it from his pocket and stared down at the screen, though felt not at all surprised.

"Who is it?" Morgan asked.

"Dad," Marc said and answered the call. "Hi, Dad."

 _"Marc? Where are you and Morgan? You're usually home by 3:15. Is everything fine? Did a frog explode in front of you? ... Oh my gosh, please tell me you took pictures!"_

"Um..." He looked between Morgan and Aversa, fishing for an excuse. "Yeah, everything's fine and, no, a frog didn't blow up. There was an after school thing, but we'll be home soon."

 _"Do you need a ride?"_

Marc bit the inside of his cheek. It'd be a long walk home, but he'd prefer that to his father's "tranquil" fury. "No, Dad. We'll be fine. See you when we get home. Bye." He then hung up to cut out the opportunity for Henry to inquire anything further. Shoving the phone back into his pocket, he turned to his sister and took her hand. "Come on, we have to get home."

"I could give you both a ride," Aversa offered.

They halted and Marc gave it some honest thought. However, Morgan answered first, "That's fine, we can walk."

Aversa gave them a pointed look. "Are you sure? There are some shifty people around these parts, and I'm sure that they'd have no problem nabbing either of you."

"Well, we _do_ live a few miles away from here," Marc considered. "I guess it couldn't hurt."

Morgan clenched her hand around his and hissed, "Are you an idiot? What about stranger danger?"

"Don't you start nagging me about this," Marc shot back. He returned his attention to Aversa and said, "Um, like I said, we live a few miles away, towards the north side, are you sure that's not too out of the way?"

Aversa waved off his concern. "That's completely fine. Now come on, I parked up this way." She walked off, her heels clacking with each step on the concrete. The twins followed her to a black coupe. She fished out a ring of keys from her purse and clasped the tiny button in the mix. The car gave a couple quick beeps along with the sound of the doors all unlocking. She gave the two a smirk and pulled open the driver's side door.

With a family friend as the governor and his bodyguard, Frederick, on a generous pay roll, neither Morgan nor Marc were blown away by the car. That wasn't to say that they couldn't appreciate sleek body work and the immaculate paint job. Morgan regarded the car with arched brows and a fascinated expression. "Wow, this must have cost a fortune."

To that, Aversa giggled, "It's not so hard to haggle down the price when you know how to sweet talk a man." She then slipped into her car. Morgan crawled into the back bench and Marc took shotgun. Once they buckled their seat belts, Aversa started the car and tapped at the gear shift. "Alright, so the north end? What's the address?"

Marc told her their address and she pulled out into the street, then drove off. With the silence that settled over them, Marc took this opportunity to take in the amazing feeling of the leather upholstery and the scent of the air freshener. _Spring breeze,_ he guessed. He noticed how she didn't reach for the radio, letting it remain at an almost inaudible volume. He kept a careful eye on the surroundings, just to make sure they were going the right way.

At one point, they reached a sharp turn and Aversa's purse slipped back and fell near Morgan. "Oops! I got it."

Marc chose to ignore that and asked, "So, I couldn't help but notice that you're Plegian."

Aversa raised a slim brow, but didn't avert her attention from the road. "A funny thing to notice, considering the two of you look to be Plegian yourselves."

"Yeah, our parents are," Morgan confirmed.

"And Gangrel is also Plegian," Marc continued. "Aren't a lot of the gangs Plegian too?"

"If you intend to ask me why Gangrel would go against his fellow Plegians, then you're missing something very important." Aversa remarked. "We are all part of the same country now. Our lineages matter very little. Yes, a lot of the underground is Plegian, but they're also criminals. He doesn't owe criminals his loyalty."

Marc nodded. "I guess I really didn't think of that."

"Not may people do." Aversa said. She then stopped the car. Marc glanced around, this was indeed their house. "This is where you two get off. It was nice meeting you."

Marc and Morgan crawled out of the coop and Marc gave a bright smile through the window. "Thanks again for the ride!"

Aversa gave a small wave back and drove off, leaving the two in front of their house. The twins walked up and came in the front door. Almost immediately Henry appeared to greet them and they found Robin staring out the living room window at the street. Marc knew that tonight he and Morgan would decide on a course of action.

Hopefully though, what they chose would be much more sensible than what they pulled today.

* * *

 _Before I start this Author's Note, I would like to point out that I did write my thoughts towards the recent terrorist attacks. For those of you who wish to read that, it's on my profile for all to see. I feel I should leave my opinion on the matter out of this fic's notes._

 _There. Now, all seriousness aside, let's play a little game called "Name that Bad Decision!" In which we list the stupid things characters here have done that you really, really shouldn't attempt in real life._  
 _1\. Rumor Spreading: See every Anti-Bullying Program ever. Moving on._  
 _2\. Investigating: Remember, Marc and Morgan are 14. They don't have the authority to actually arrest people, that's vigilantism, and that's illegal. It's also extremely risky. They aren't trained to handle this, and could easily be hurt if they aren't careful. Don't do this. Leave this up to the police.  
3\. Getting in a stranger's car: Dude, they're lucky that Aversa's not out to get them, but they really, really shouldn't have gotten in her car. They don't know her and she could have just as easily made off with them. A general rule of thumb in terms of trusting people is whether or not the person has kids of their own.  
4\. Not telling anyone where they are: This is just common sense. Always, ALWAYS, tell people like close family and friends where you plan to be, when, and for how long. This way, should you find yourself, I dunno, kidnapped they can figure that out much quicker and send for help. Or, better, yet, send a couple older people to watch over you in the first place. A chaperon isn't lame, it's smart.  
_

 _That all said, that's pretty much it. Severa's getting revenge and Niime doesn't like people much._


	7. Chapter 7: Tomorrow will be better

_I know we've literally seen none of these characters, or those in the last pairing profile yet, but we will soon enough. On with the profile._

 _Pairing Profiles: Maribelle x Libra  
_

 _~Like Gregor x Tharja, this pairing was made less for its in-game appeal and more for what I was going for in this particular story. Don't get me wrong, this pairing's great, but I still can't wrap my head around how Maribelle's pretty face and Libra's pretty face merged into Brady's thug-like face. I mean, I guess it came from somebody else, maybe Maribelle's dad or something, because there's no way their pretty genes mutated into scary face genes. To be fair, this problem exists for most of the other suitors, so I guess it can't be helped.  
~Like with Tharja, I was looking for someone who wouldn't protest Maribelle's authoritarian parenting style. Libra would not only be more passive, but probably even support it. The most he'd probably do is stop Maribelle when she's gone too far. So yes, Brady would still be raised in a ridged house, and some of his quirks are teenage rebellion (in this story, not so sure about in canon).  
~Also look at all this religion in this household. Maribelle prays every morning, Libra's a monk, and Brady shows up as a squishy priest. PRAISE NAGA!  
~Oh look, Brady's blond in this story. Thanks Libra._

* * *

Inigo slumped down at the foot of his bed, sweat and tears rolling down his face. The music continued to blare from his speakers and drowned out his harsh panting. His legs felt like pudding from his persistent dancing. He could hardly even move, safe for having enough strength in his arm to lift it up on the bed and rest his head against it.

He knew he shouldn't push himself this hard, but this was more of a coping method than anything at this point. Today had to be one of the worst he had in years, what with being rejected via chocolate milk and having almost an entire class of his laugh about it towards the end of the day. He came home taut as a stretched rubber band and was on the verge of snapping, so he locked himself in his bedroom and cranked up the music. Better he dance until he could hardly move than punch a hole in the wall or get in some pointless argument with his parents.

His lip trembled and he sniffled. "Tomorrow's got to be better..."

...

With Wednesday morning came a new sense of optimism for Inigo. He'd get back out there and show everyone that yesterday didn't hurt him, even if he got laughed out of the cafeteria. He went to school head high and ready for anything. Then, with a deep breath, he approached a nearby girl and greeted her with a "Hello there, miss."

"Oh!" The girl swung around to face him and gaped at him for a second before seeming to collect herself. "Hi, Inigo."

He pulled on his most dashing smile. "Isn't today a lovely morning?"

She shrugged. "It's a morning, I guess. Look, I have to go."

"You can't stay just a moment longer?" Inigo asked.

This produced a raised brow in response. "Don't you have a boyfriend?" She then turned and left.

Those words repeated themselves in Inigo's head several times. _A... boyfriend?_ Surely this must have been some joke. Or maybe it was a mistake? Maybe she meant girlfriend. _That had to be it._

Inigo took a deep breath and pulled his smile back on. He wouldn't let this get him down. Today was supposed to be better. He went ahead and approached a group of chicks chatting by the school library doors. He leaned against the wall as he said, "So, what are you fine ladies talking about?"

The five girls looked his way and one of them replied, "Oh, actually we were just talking about you, Inigo. Funny how that works."

 _Odd_. "All good things, I hope."

"Oh, yeah, of course," giggled another, a violet-haired beauty. "It's just we should have known why you try so hard to pick up girls. I'm sorry that I called you a man-whore."

At this point, Inigo had a sinking feeling in his stomach. "I don't follow."

"You don't have to hide it, silly," said a blonde, "you got nothing to be ashamed of."

 _Oh no... She didn't..._ He felt like he was about to hurl.

"Oh my gods, you have to give us the details," the first added. "How long were you and Brady going out?"

 _She did._ All the blood drained from his face and he was very much thankful that he leaned against the wall. "I-I think you're mistaken," Inigo stammered, his tongue having gone dead in his mouth, "we're not-"

* * *

Severa's lips tugged into a satisfied smirk as she watched Inigo's face go ghost white. He was painfully stumbling with his words, and the girls he was trying to seduce were now badgering him about his relationship with Brady.

Revenge was so sweet.

Suddenly his knees gave and he slid down the wall, ending up in a crumpled heap on the floor. His hand raised slightly to grab for something, but it fell down beside his head and he went still. Severa stared with a slack jaw. _Did he actually just faint?!_ She could only stand stiffly while the girls who had been questioning him were now backing away. Their eyes were wide with shock, and one covered her mouth in her hands. _You idiots, do something!_

"Oh my gods!" one of the girls exclaimed. "I think he fainted!"

It wasn't even long before they conjured up a crowd with all their panic. Sick with anger, Severa grit her teeth and got up from the bench with every intention of getting the nurse. Two steps later, Owain cut through the crowd and crouched down beside Inigo. He scooped Inigo up off the ground and got back to his feet. Whether it was because Owain was actually strong or Inigo was just incredibly lightweight (considering he's so small, it wouldn't be much a surprise), the former had little trouble carrying his classmate away, not even so much as a word to the crowd.

Severa stood there with lead feet as she watched Owain turn down the hall in the direction of the nurse. She clenched her hands into fists and headed after them, the weight of the situation settled in her stomach like a rock.

When she arrived at the nurse's office, Rhys was already looking Inigo over, who lay completely out cold on the cot with his jacket rolled up as a pillow under his head. Owain sat on a separate cot and was watching the nurse work until Severa walked in. He looked up when the door opened, a startling amount of fury in his eyes. Severa almost backed out of the room in that instant, but she steeled herself and proceeded inside.

"How is he?" Severa asked, now that she was closer, she could see how pale Inigo's face still was.

Some of Owain's hostility died when she asked. The nurse glanced up momentarily to see who was there. "He'll be fine," Rhys answered, returning to his work, "Did you need something?"

"No, I just..." Severa trailed off. If only she came up with an excuse. "I just wanted to know if he'd be alright."

Rhys pulled the sphygmometer off Inigo's arm and the stethoscope out of his ears. "I may just be keeping him in here for a while though. You two don't need to stay, class will be starting up soon."

"No, I'll stay here," Owain said, "he and I have a lot of classes together, so I'll keep an eye on him."

The nurse frowned. "Well alright, I guess. Then, let me just write you a pass too."

Severa sat down next to Owain on the cot. She could just leave, it would be so much easier. She knew that Inigo would be fine and so there was no reason to stay, but something kept her rooted there. "Owain?" She got his attention and she looked down. "Could you... maybe tell Inigo I said... sorry?"

Whatever anger that was left was replaced with complete surprise. "Wait, seriously? You're apologizing?"

Her face burned and she clenched her fists on her lap. "Of course I am, you idiot. This was my fault."

"Tell him yourself," he told her. At her shocked expression, he continued with, "Look, you did this. Yeah, he'll be mad, but at least you can own up to your actions yourself." She looked down again, ashamed, and he sighed. "I'm not surprised that you spread the rumor in the first place. Though honestly, I'm more angry at everyone spectating in the halls. I know Inigo can be a jerk, but even he doesn't deserve this sort of crap."

"Is that why you helped him?" Severa asked.

Owain rocked his hand in a "so-so" gesture. "Not exactly. I guess I just wanted to play the hero."

"Considering nobody else wanted to, it's a good thing you did." Severa replied. "I mean, I'd expect one person to run off and find Rhys, but nobody did. It's pathetic."

He sighed and diverted his attention to the floor, his fingers drumming on his leg. "I guess it says a lot about our city."

The bell rang and Severa got up to leave. Her feet dragged like lead weights and her hand fell heavy on the door handle. She pulled the door half open and paused, once again glancing at Inigo. Lips dropping to a tight frown, she slipped away.

* * *

The first thing Inigo became aware of was how hot and fuzzy he felt. Confusion immediately took hold. _What happened?_ His heart started to flutter, compounding the thick numbness in his body. He tried to move, but was immediately met with the dead weight that was his arms. All he could actually manage was a tiny groan and a tilt of his head.

"Rhys, I think he's waking up," someone said not far away.

A hand came to Inigo's shoulder, pushing him back down. "Just lie still for now and take deep breaths, okay?"

Inigo's jaw trembled as he opened his mouth to protest, but all he managed to produce was pathetic whine. He then followed the nurse's advice and breathed slower and deeper.

"There. I'll be right back, just keep that up." Rhys' hand vanished from his chest and Inigo was left with whoever nearby. He hadn't thought too hard about the voice, nor did he care to. A minute had passed and some of the overwhelming numbness subsided when Rhys returned. "Okay, can you sit up, Inigo?"

The strain of pushing himself up made his arms quake, but he managed to sit. The moment he did though, the blood drained from his head again and his stomach lurched painfully. He hunched over and let his head rest on his hands, hoping that it would subside soon. "What happened?" He asked, though his voice was still weak.

"You fainted in the hall," that someone, Owain, said.

Rhys sat himself down at the end of Inigo's cot. "Owain, since you're here, could you run down to the cafeteria and ask one of the lunch ladies for a carton of juice? Just tell them I sent you."

Owain shot up to his feet. "Right! I will get it before you even notice I left!" He then bolted out the door, leaving Inigo and Rhys in the nurse's office.

A bead of sweat trickled from Inigo's brow and he sighed. "Shouldn't he be back by now?"

Rhys chuckled and shook his head. "I see your sense of humor is still intact. Now, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?" Inigo shrugged and Rhys continued. "Right, so have you fainted before?"

"No, not as far as I can remember," Inigo answered.

"No lightheadedness or dizziness ever?"

"No."

The nurse frowned. "I see. Well, this might just be a one time thing, but, if this happens again, you might want to go consult a doctor."

"Alright," Inigo said. Was it time for class? Last thing Inigo wanted was to be late again. "Can I go now?"

Rhys shook his head. "Sorry, but I'm keeping you here for a bit longer." In Rhys' hand was a clipboard, and he jotted away at some sheet. Inigo watched, as there was very little else he could do. This went on for what felt like forever.

The door opened and Owain returned, a carton of orange juice and a cookie in hand, and he presented Rhys with them, "Here you are!"

Inigo picked up his head to look at his classmate. "You took your time."

Owain responded with "I was delayed by tyrannical forces on my quest!"

"Did a hall monitor stop you?" Inigo guessed.

"Ehh... yeah..." Owain chuckled. "I may have been running and I may not have had a hall pass."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot to write one up for you," Rhys said. He passed the juice and cookie to Inigo. "Here, this will help." He then got up and returned to his desk where he started typing on his computer.

Inigo opened the carton and drank some of the juice. "Thanks, Owain. You really didn't have to."

"Don't worry about it," Owain replied and plopped down on the other cot again. "Look, I know we get under each other's skin, but maybe it's time we grow and get along."

"Are you saying this out of pity?" Inigo questioned, shame boiling up into frustration. "Because if that's what this is, then you can forget it."

Owain knitted his brows, looking genuinely thrown off by his response. "What? No, that's not why at all. I just think our bickering's gone far enough. I mean, we've been at this since elementary school and I don't even remember what it all started from."

Sitting up straight now, Inigo took a deep breath and took another sip of juice. Owain was right, they had been getting on each other's backs since they were kids. If he wasn't mistaken, it was something like the 1st grade when he went poking around Owain's cubby and found his _"MANUEL OF JUSTIS"_ and wrote a bunch of little notes all over the thing. Owain got back at him by leaving a couple frogs in his cubby and it became a full blown cubby war for as long as they had cubbies to terrorize. Perhaps it was a blessing that Owain was quick to forget things, but still... "If you're expecting me to be friends with you-"

"No, I don't," Owain interrupted, "but instead of enemies, maybe we could be rivals."

"Rivals?" Inigo raised a brow.

"Yeah, no malice." Owain confirmed and extended his hand. "So what do you say?"

Inigo stared down Owain's hand for several seconds and took it. "Sure. I guess it couldn't hurt." The smile that spread across Owain's face was oddly satisfying for Inigo, and he couldn't help smiling back before chuckling to himself. Things started out rough today, but maybe this was where things would get better. "I've got one question though."

"Hm?"

"I'm sure you probably heard the rumor... about me and Brady." Inigo rubbed the back of his neck, his face starting to burn. "Do you believe it?"

Owain stared at him hard, then he broke out in laughter and buried his head in his hands. "D-did you really just ask that? No, of course I don't believe that!"

Inigo's face turned a deeper shade of red as he hunched down and glared down at the cookie in his hands. He couldn't believe that Owain was laughing at him. At least there was someone who realized the truth, but he could at least not be an ass about it.

When Owain's laughter died down, he kept an ear to ear grin as he said, "Sorry, it just seemed like a stupid thing to ask. I'm pretty sure nobody actually believes that rumor anyway."

"Yeah, maybe you're right." Inigo finished his juice and unwrapped the cookie.

"Are you working today?" Owain asked.

Inigo was about the bite into the cookie, but paused at the question. What did this matter? "Um, no? I don't work on Wednesdays."

If it were possible, Owain's grin grew even larger.

Unnerved, Inigo leaned back slightly and lowered the cookie from his face. "Owain, you're scaring me..."

"Since you're not busy, maybe you can come to my D&D club after school," Owain suggested, almost bouncing with excitement.

"No." Inigo quickly bit into the cookie to avoid saying anything else. There was literally nothing nice he could say about that absurd game.

"Aw, why not?" Owain shot back. "It wouldn't kill you to try it out. If you don't like it, then you don't need to show up again, but at least give it a chance."

Inigo swallowed and shrugged. "Well, let's just say that D&D players have a harsh reputation for being losers."

"It's not that lame though," Owain disagreed, "really, it's a lot of fun."

"Why would you want me to play anyways?" Inigo shot back.

Owain crossed his arms, "Because I think you'd make a great bard. Besides, you could pick up barmaids."

"I'd rather pick up actual chicks." Inigo retorted.

"Yeah, well imaginary chicks are better than what you're getting," Owain remarked.

"Touche." Inigo grumbled and sighed a very, very heavy and exasperated sigh. At this rate, today wouldn't be all that great after all. What could he possibly have to lose? "Fine. Whatever, I'll try it out."

"Really? You mean it? This is great, you won't be disappointed!" Owain whooped in victory, ready to shoot up to his feet. Maybe, just maybe, he was right.

* * *

If nothing else, Gerome liked to think that nothing short of the world shattering under his feet could surprise him. After all, he had 18 years under his belt and he was very sure he saw the craziest things that this world had to offer. This was, of course, before he came into his math class, where he found several girls fawning over Brady. They were practically on top of the guy while he slumped further and further down into his chair in some doomed effort to escape their adoring coos.

Gerome maintained his apathetic appearance and walked past the spectacle to his desk towards the back of the class. There, he watched the scene unfold behind the mirror lenses of his shades. Not even a week ago, these same girls were snickering about Brady's hair looking stupid and that he was probably a drug dealer. So what in the seven hells could have possibly happened to make them suddenly so clingy?

Finally, Brady had about enough of it and fished around in his backpack, pulling out a pair of sunglasses which he promptly threw on.

"Aw, you don't need to be so shy," one of the girls cooed, reaching for the frame of the sunglasses to take them off.

Brady's hand whipped up to stop her and he exclaimed, "Would'ya just leave me alone?"

One of the girls was draped over his shoulder, "It's okay, you don't need to lie. We love sensitive bi-guys!"

"Oh for cryin' out loud, I ain't bi!" Brady snapped and jerked his shoulder away from her. "Now beat it, I'm done talkin'!"

 _Oh, that's it..._ Gerome recalled some silly rumor about Brady and Inigo making out or something to that effect. When he heard it, he blew it off, but word seemed to spread much, much faster than he expected. It's not like Gerome believed it either. Brady may be a wimp, but that didn't mean much. Gerome was very sure that the Junior was straight as a board. Considering who his parents were, that made the most sense.

At this point, Gerome wasn't even watching this because it was fun. No, it was very much the opposite. It was like watching daytime television when nothing's on but sitcoms and commercials about male virility pills. There's just so many better things you could be doing, but this is the only thing to watch right now. He toyed with the idea of stepping in and helping Brady out of his predicament, but the time for action passed when the teacher walked in. She told the class to take their seats and the girls quickly fled to their desks.

She dropped a couple folders on her desk and turned to face the class. Though when she did, she arched her brows. "Brady, take off the sunglasses, we're indoors."

Reflexively, Brady stiffened and then looked every which way. "You never make Gerome take his off!"

"Believe me, I tried," she scoffed. "Now take them off."

Brady removed his sunglasses and nestled his head in his arms on the desk.

Class started up normally and then it soon went to everyone pairing off to do the classwork. As usual, Gerome partnered up with Lucina, who seemed more than a little distracted. Gerome originally intended to let it be, but this was the third day she's been like this since Monday, possibly over the weekend. He was sure that now was okay to ask what was up.

"Lucina," Gerome said to get her attention. She, however, had fixed the paper with a blank stare and didn't notice. He gently took hold of her wrist, feeling the stark difference of her warm skin verses his normally cool hand, and shook her arm. "Hey, Lucina."

She jumped, some of her hair falling out of place as she did, and she huffed and fixed her hair. "Sorry, Gerome. What problem were we on again?"

"What's been with you lately," he asked.

Lucina peeked up and frowned. "Nothing's wrong..."

"You're usually much more alert than this," he reminded her.

"I know." She sighed and tapped her pen on the desk. Finally she stood up with a quick "I'm going to the bathroom" and retreated from the classroom without even so much as grabbing the hall pass or signing herself out. The teacher gave Gerome a confused look, to which he could only shrug.

Gerome kept himself busy by doing the problems on the worksheet, but after five or so minutes he thought that Lucina was taking just a little too long. He stared down at her discarded pen left on the her desk and then to her worksheet. She had been absently scribbling before she left. After another four minutes, Gerome decided that he should probably go look for her. He got up and, unlike her, signed out and grabbed the bathroom pass next to the door. He then walked down to the nearest set of bathrooms, where he hoped to find her.

He waited outside the girls' room for another minute before Lucina came out, her eyes puffy and red and water dripping down her face. She was startled by Gerome's presence and looked down. "I'm sorry. Was I gone for too long?"

"Seriously, what's up?" Gerome asked again.

She sniffled. "I-I did some bad things."

Now he was worried. "What did you do?"

"I played hooky last Friday," she said. "My dad grounded me."

Whatever worry he had immediately dissipated and he felt tempted to hit his head against the wall. "Really? That's what you're worked up about?"

She looked positively shocked by his reaction and stared up at him. "What do you mean? I went behind my dad's back, isn't that bad?"

"No, that's normal." Gerome replied. "Teenagers do stupid things and they learn from them."

"Wait, what?" Lucina couldn't have looked more confused.

Gerome gave an exasperated sigh. "It's probably just hard for you to cope because you're a daddy's girl. But really, I know people who do even stupider things than cut school. Now just let it go." He walked with her back to class, and thankfully she managed to compose herself. They got straight back to work and just barely managed to finish the worksheet before the end of class. He couldn't believe that Lucina could be so dense sometimes.

* * *

When the end of the day rolled around, everyone gathered up in Ricken's classroom for D&D Club. While Owain ran around trying to get everything ready, Morgan and Marc sat at the collection of desks arranged in the center of the room. Around the desk collective were the other club members. Laurent was reading a book and Cynthia was jabbering off excitedly about the kind of character she planned on making. Morgan hardly paid any mind to it, as she seemed preoccupied with something, so Marc lent his ear to his classmate.

"I'm going to be the best hero ever! And everyone's going to know my name," Cynthia proclaimed.

"Have you thought about what kind of build you want to do?" Marc asked.

Cynthia bobbed her head up and down eagerly, "Oh, yeah! I'm going to have mad stats and feats in all the classes, that way I have the ultimate build that no one can defeat."

Laurent lowered his book a moment and gave Cynthia a critical stare. "You do realize that what you're planning here would be highly impractical, correct?"

Cynthia stammered to her defense, something about how by taking levels in all the classes, she can get an insane character. This was, unsurprisingly, countered with the fact that she would miss out on important feats in certain classes and would take forever to accomplish. It was decidedly awesome but impractical.

"You just don't understand!" Cynthia said, crossing her arms in frustration.

"Actually, Laurent has a point," Marc interjected. "Have you ever heard of a min-max character? Those are characters who are crazy specialized to do one or two things and are absolutely terrible at everything else. They do that because they can only throw so much in their stats. A more balanced character won't have straight 20s or anything, but more like 10s, to 16s. Even then, you're probably going to have some dump stat."

By then, Noire peeked into the room and, upon seeing the rest of the club there, entered and joined them at the cluster of desks. "Hi guys," she greeted softly.

"Greetings, traveler!" Owain appeared just behind her, startling her. Her reaction was something akin to a cat's, as she jumped and almost seemed to have her hair standing on end. Owain blinked at this, surprised, and apologized before turning his attention down to the rest of the group. "Alright. I still have a couple more things I have to do before we can get started, but it shouldn't take me long." He then rushed off to go do just that.

Marc felt a tap on his hand drawing his attention to his sister. "What's up?"

"Can I talk to you?" Morgan requested.

Marc knitted his brows, "Uh, sure. I guess."

* * *

At a restaurant downtown, a Plegian woman tapped her heel as she waited for her "date". She twirled a long strand of white hair around her finger, almost bored, and stared down the the half-consumed drink in front of her.

Footsteps alerted her to someone approaching, and she turned to see the man she was waiting for. He gave her an affable smile, and sat across from her. He too was Plegian, a white haired guy who had a presence to him that made her uneasy. He signaled the waitress over and ordered himself a drink, then neatly folded his hand on the table. "So, if I heard the news correctly, Robin's still breathing."

"Yes, unfortunately," she replied. "The two we sent failed to execute her. I have already taken it upon myself to deal with them. Because of their incompetence, she was taken to the hospital, as you know."

The man gave a steady hum and he rubbed his jaw. "Hmm... We can't do much about this right now. If she's still admitted in the hospital then there's no way that we can finish the job, and the cops will be keeping a close eye on her. Things just got much more difficult."

"Oh, and it only gets better. I know this sounds hilarious, but it seems we also have a couple nosy children getting involved too." The woman added.

"We'll need to tread carefully then," he said. "A pair of brats doesn't intimidate me. The legal trouble, however, will be a problem if we did away with them. Let them be, scare them off if you have to. Just be sure not to harm them in the slightest."

She smirked and took a long sip from her drink, staring up at him with a dark, seductive gleam in her eyes. She replaced the glass on the table and rubbed the smudge of lipstick off the rim. "Understood. Though I'm hoping some common sense kicks into their little heads first." She crossed her legs and lightly brushed her foot against his shin, an action that didn't go unnoticed. "I hope you haven't forgotten that we still need to deal with Robin. If she testifies-"

"I know," he interrupted. "We're treading on thin ice as is. I would say that we need to get her to keep her trap shut, but I doubt she'll be easily persuaded. She also won't fall for the same trap twice either, so we're just going to need to get creative with our methods."

"No doubt you'll think of something," she purred.

The waitress, a teenager with long pigtails, reappeared at the table with the man's drink. "Here you go, sir." He thanked her and she quickly went to the next table, as she had a tray with several other drinks.

The two sat at the table, and the conversation shifted to a more light and casual one concerning the war breaking out all across Valm. As far as anyone was concerned, it was a very normal dinner date.

* * *

 _This chapter was oddly a very fun one to write. I happen to very much enjoy writing characters suffering for whatever reason. Also, yes, we have some shifty things happening behind the scenes.  
I also got to put Rhys in this chapter. I freaking love him._

 _I think now's a great time to bring up the fact that I'm handling Robin's chances of remembering things completely by chance. She's got a 5% chance (I've decided) of remembering something at certain points. So I basically roll a d20 to decide whether she does or not. Should she actually remember something, how telling the memory is is determined with 1d4. 1 being a vague sense of familiarity or a nagging feeling that she can't quite put her finger on, and 4 being a full on flashback.  
In the last chapter, there was a certain scene where she could have potentially remembered something rather important when Marc and Morgan got home, and if she did then this chapter then that'd affect this chapter._

 _Thanks for reading and I'll be out with the next chapter soon._


	8. Chapter 8: First Session

_I'm not going to lie, I ship this one a little bit. Partly because I hardly ever use these two towards the latter half of the game, so they sit on the bench together forever and ever._

 _Pairing Profiles: Miriel x Kellam_

 _~ Read their support, Miriel takes to holding onto Kellam's arm so she doesn't lose him by the time they reach their B support. Granted, it's for scientific purposes, but this goes on through their A and S supports. It's a very cute image.  
~ Laurent's father always states that he looks nothing like his son. I find that this is only true for some of Miriel's potential suitors. Kellam, as you can clearly see (or not), looks nothing like Laurent.  
~ With the father/son support in mind, I had to consider what the dynamic would have to be here because Laurent didn't spend 5 years alone due to time shenanigans. Let's just say, without spoiling, I have plans for what that dynamic will be between these two.  
(This isn't to say that Laurent isn't older than the rest of the children. He still is the oldest, but there's a different reason for it because of the stunning lack of time travel in this setting.)_

* * *

Morgan led Marc out of the classroom and down the hall to the blind spot behind the stairs, where the security cameras wouldn't see them. Marc was more than a little perplexed by this, as he saw very little reason why she chose to talk here. A tinge of nervousness ate at his stomach. _What if she did something horrible?_

His sister fidgeted, her lip red from all her biting. "You know how that lady, Aversa, drove us home yesterday?"

"Yeah?" His voice came out hesitant and uncertain as he braced himself for whatever this was leading up to.

Her hand dropped to her sweatshirt pocket and she shoved it inside. "I, umm... I may have... taken her wallet..." She withdraw from her pocket a black wallet with bright silver clasps and zippers.

Marc immediately snatched it from her and popped it open to see for himself. Sure enough, there was Aversa's driver's license and a few credit cards - amongst other things. There was also what he counted up to be 57 bullion, a few sticks of gum, and a couple unopened condom packets. He once again gawked at the ID before finally returning his attention to Morgan. "W-why would you do this? You could get in trouble for stealing!" By some miracle, he managed to keep his voice down so as to not draw attention.

Morgan scuffed her toe on the floor and chewed on her lip again. "I don't trust her, okay? Something's not right about her and I need to figure out what. Please don't quit on me. You're the only person I can trust with this."

"And how do you plan on returning it?" Marc questioned. "We can't just hand it back to her, because she'll know who took it. Did you think this through at all?"

"No, okay? I didn't." She tugged at her hair. "Look, maybe we can sneak it back into her house, it'll be like she just forgot it or something."

Marc's eyes almost popped out of his head. "You stole her wallet and now you're planning to break into her house? What's wrong with you?"

"I don't... I don't know! I just need to know who's responsible for hurting Mom," she said. "I can't even sleep anymore, that's how much this is nagging at me. Someone tried to kill her and they need to pay."

"But this is crazy," Marc argued, shaking his head. "We're not cops, we could get in huge trouble."

"I don't care!" She snapped. Her shoulders trembled more with each passing moment. "Whoever wanted Mom dead will probably try again. I-I can't just let that happen. If you don't want to help, then don't. I can do this myself." She stepped around him, snatched Aversa's wallet out of his hand, and started walking away.

"...Morgan..." Marc spun around and grabbed her sleeve to stop her.

Her hands curled into fists. "Let go of me, Marc."

"I'm not letting you go," Marc told her, "not alone, at least. I want to help Mom too, but we can't do this alone. Please, Morgan, let's find help."

With a deep breath, Morgan bowed her head down. "Fine."

They walked out from behind the stairs and almost immediately bumped into Inigo, who was standing at the foot of the steps. He stared at them with wide eyes and his mouth hung open.

Morgan paled significantly. "O-oh... crap."

"Were you spying on us?" Marc asked, just as nervous.

As soon as they spoke, a bead of sweat formed on his brow. He looked about ready to run. "Well... I, uh..."

"How much did he hear?" Morgan clamped her hands together. "Marc, what do we-"

"I don't know," Marc replied, his heart slamming hard against his ribs.

Inigo held out his arms, "H-hold on. Calm down, the both of you."

"We're dead," Marc concluded, throwing his hands over his eyes. "This is it. Jail."

"But, I don't wanna go to jail," Morgan wailed.

"Enough!" Inigo shouted over them. "I'm not going to call the cops, okay? I won't say a word."

The twins paused and Marc's hands slipped down his face slightly. Morgan, however, looked unconvinced. She turned to Marc and said, "I don't trust him. He's a rat, I just know it."

Inigo loosely crossed his arms as the corner of his mouth twitched downward. "No, I'm a dog, actually. But in all seriousness, I'm not going to call the police or anything. You're doing this for your mom, right? I don't think I'd be able to sleep well knowing that I got in the way of that." He then dropped his arms again and left with a simple, "Come on, don't you have a club you should be getting to?"

* * *

Laurent briefly glanced up from his book when the door opened again. Much to his surprise, that person was Inigo. If he recalled correctly, Inigo didn't initially join the club because he had work after school. The puzzling thing was not the circumstances of Inigo's schedule, he could easily have had Wednesdays off, but rather Inigo himself; Laurent didn't think Inigo was into playing D&D in the first place. If anything, he was certain that the younger student's attitude towards the game would have been merely apathetic at best and harshly critical at worst.

Looking around the table, Laurent noticed that he wasn't the only one surprised either. Noire's eyes nearly bulged out of her head, Cynthia's jaw hung open, and Ricken stared with furrowed brows. The only face that didn't exhibit surprise was Owain's, which, for whatever reason, bore a smirk.

Behind Inigo was Marc and Morgan, both wearing identical looks of mild shock as Inigo approached the cluster of desks. However, neither of them said anything and joined the group afterwards.

"Glad you could join us, Inigo," Owain said.

 _Was he being... smug?_ Laurent folded his hands on his desk. "If I may ask, why are you here?"

Inigo hung his backpack on the back of the seat and sat down between Cynthia and Owain. "I walked here? Why are you here?"

Laurent adjusted his glasses, not at all amused by the counter-question. "I happen to have an interest in the game. Care to answer my question?"

Before Inigo could really answer, Owain answered, "Although reluctant at first, Inigo has joined our band of heroes on our grand quest."

"Translation, Owain talked me into attending a meeting," Inigo said, sounding almost tired. "But, please, nobody say I was here."

"Aw, but you could be a glorious member of the Justice Cabal!" Cynthia replied.

Inigo seemed very much puzzled. "The Justice Cabal? Oh, please tell me you didn't call yourselves that!"

Cynthia whined as if she was just slapped across the face. Her shock was shared by Marc and Morgan, both of whom looked absolutely offended, and a shrinking Noire. Despite Laurent's outward neutral expression, even he felt a little furious. _What right does he have to judge? He wasn't even present when we named the party!_ It was some tremendous force of will for Laurent to not clench his hands under the desk.

Before any of the club could argue for the name, Owain coughed into his fist, grabbing everyone's attention. "Let's all just agree on at least this rule, nobody insults the party name."

"Agreed," said almost everyone at the desks.

"On a different note," Owain continued, "The time has come to create your characters, only then may you all unite forces to vanquish the forces of evil. Now, I brought the player handbook and a bunch of character sheets, and I'm here if anyone has any questions about how they're supposed to make their character."

Laurent pulled a plain plastic folder from his messenger bag on the floor, and from it removed his character sheet. Of course, being familiar with the game, Laurent have a very good idea how to build characters, and he was actually very pleased with the one he whipped up for the sake of this club. He decided on an aged wizard, dubbed Chronos, with 19 intelligence and able to speak almost all the languages in the game (save Divine Speech, reserved for priests and gods). He also went ahead and dug around in the extra source books and and found an extension to the class which dealt with time magic and he just couldn't turn down that chance. He also had a couple pages worth of backstory written down and ready to go. Oh, how he was so excited! "Dungeon Master, as I informed you in advance, I have my character ready." He held out the character sheet to Owain so he could look it over.

Owain took the character sheet and skimmed through its contents. "Looks like everything's in order. Care to help everyone else with their characters?"

"I would be happy to." Laurent smiled and looked to Noire beside him, who was staring down at her character sheet as if it just threatened to murder her. She hadn't filled anything out, nor did she look like she was going to in the near future. "Would you like some help, Noire?"

She peeked up shyly. "O-okay. Thank you." Her attention returned to the character sheet and she sighed. "I have no idea what to do..."

"Do you perhaps have something you want to be?" Laurent suggested. "You could express that through your character."

"Oh!" She immediately got to work, quickly starting to fill in the basic info.

Seeing that as a success, Laurent looked over to Marc and Morgan, who both seemed to have it well under control, and Inigo who was getting help from Owain. The only other person was Cynthia and she practically buried her nose in the player handbook. Laurent decided to stay where he was and wait for any questions should they come.

About a half hour later, everyone had their characters sorted out and ready to play. Owain eagerly set up the DM screen and handed out dice sets to everyone. As it turned out, Owain actually had a surprising number of full dice sets, at least a dozen different ones that Laurent counted. After Owain finished, he returned to behind the screen and coughed into his hand, signaling that he intended to begin.

"The year is 1782, the four years after the end of The Construct War," he said, "today, an overcast hangs heavy over The Once Great City of Manduel. For whatever reason, each of you end up in The Fat Thief, a local inn. Where are you all?"

Cynthia is first to speak up, "Is there a dark corner I can sit at?"

"Of course, what sort of inn would this be if there was nay a dark corner to be seen?" Owain answered.

"Cool, I'm sitting at a dark corner, drinking ale." Cynthia decided.

"That would be nine copper, miss," he said.

"What?" Cynthia couldn't look more confused.

"You have to purchase the ale," Owain told her.

"Oh! Well here you go then!" Cynthia then subtracted the amount from her money pouch.

Owain looked around the desks. "How about the rest of you adventurers?"

"We're talking at a table to the side," Morgan answered for her and Marc, who nodded to affirm this.

"I am reading at the counter," Laurent informed.

Inigo tapped his chin. "Are there any barmaids?"

"Yes."

"Cute ones?"

Owain rolled a couple dice. "There are a pair of beauties beyond compare. One with soft curves, her hair shimmering like copper flame under the light of the chandelier. The other voluptuous and radiant with endless energy."

"I flirt with the first one you mentioned." Inigo decided.

"Okay, roll." Owain told him.

Inigo did. "15. Do I add my charisma modifier to that?"

"Yes." The Dungeon Master said after pondering this for only a couple seconds at best. "That's 19 in total. The woman seems to be hanging off your every word."

Inigo smirked.

"How about you, Noire?" Owain asked.

"Oh! I... um..." She fidgeted in her seat, all the attention settled on her. "I guess I... um... sit alone..."

"Alright, now that that's settled," Owain played up one of the most mischievous grins as he flipped through some papers behind his screen. "The doors swing open as a tall man adorn in black ebony plate armor steps in through the door. His red cape billows behind him as he slams the tip of his sword down into the wood floor to get everyone's attention. His name is whispered like a curse. _The Black Knight_. He speaks for all to hear, 'Adventurers, are you seeking glory? Do you desire fame and wealth beyond all imagination? Do you want your wishes to come true? Look no further, would-be-heroes, for I grant you the yearly opportunity to participate in The Guild of the Emerald Wyvern's own Grand Tournament. All those who wish to volunteer, approach now!'"

Just when Laurent was sure that this was going to be typical. Seeing as this was an _obvious_ plot hook, he decided to go along with it. "I stand up and approach the Black Knight. 'I wish to volunteer.'"

"'We have our first candidate! Who else?'" Owain boomed.

"'Alright! I'm in!'" Cynthia said eagerly. "I go up too."

"I get up and go over," Marc said.

"Me too," Morgan added.

Inigo shrugged, "I guess I will too then."

Once again, Noire was last to speak. "I-I'll go too..."

"Care to answer in character, you two?" Owain suggested.

Sighing, he said, "If I must. 'Oh sweetheart, I'm afraid this is my cue. But I will remember your lovely face and that will give me strength.' I go up to The Black Knight. 'I volunteer.'"

"Nice role-play right there," Marc noted.

"Thanks." Inigo loosely crossed his arms.

The spotlight was back on Noire. She stirred in her seat, seeming only to murmur something at first. However, when nobody heard, she suddenly shot up from her seat, "I WILL JOIN YOUR PETTY COMPETITION AND PROVE MYSELF SUPERIOR IN EVERY WAY! JUST TRY ME, BLACK KNIGHT!"

 _Oh gods, my ears!_ Laurent had slapped his hand over his ears, but even still just the sheer volume of Noire's voice made them ring.

The general reactions around the desks were all varied degrees of shock. Particularly Marc, who was also right next to Noire and was now startled stiff in his chair, and Cynthia, who stared with a slack jaw and bug eyes. Laurent peaked back and saw Ricken remark the sophomore with wide eyes and a tight frown. Noire was no less surprised, as she turned pink and sunk down her seat where she continued to shrink.

Owain gave two slow blinks and then rolled a die a couple times. "T-the Black Knight visibly balks at your declaration. Add +2 to your Intimidate skill."

"Wait, what?!" Morgan stammered. "Why does she get a bonus?"

"The Black Knight rolled a 1 on his will check, and she rolled a 20 on her intimidate check." Owain answered. "I think she earned it."

Noire weakly said, "T-thank you..." She then scribbled that down on her character sheet.

For as long as Laurent cared to remember, Noire was a very meek girl and rarely spoke up. She never yelled before. He had to wonder if this was all her or her mother's doing. Either way, it was a very fascinating development.

"While you all have been volunteering, so have several other people. The Black Knight straightens up and requests, 'Now, announce your names and I shall bring you to the guild.'" Owain then rattled off a bunch of names and classes for the aforementioned people as well as brief descriptions of each. He then looked to the players, as it was now their turn.

Laurent spoke up first, "My name is Chronos, I am a wizard."

"I'm Landelle! And I'm a member of the Holy Paladins!" Cynthia announced.

"I'm Kierrwyn-" began Marc.

"-and I'm Koberia-" continued Morgan.

"And we're the Rogue Twins!" They both proclaimed.

Noire took a deep breath, somehow conjuring back the malicious look she wore a minute ago. It seemed as if a shadow fell over her face. "I AM BLANCHE! AND I WILL TURN YOU MAGGOTS INTO PIN CUSHIONS WITH MY MANY ARROWS! REPENT AND DESPAIR!"

Owain sighed and rolled again. After several seconds of staring down behind the screen he said. "One man backs away and says, 'Okay, I'm out.' while a couple others seem nervous, the other volunteers are unfazed and two in particular look completely apathetic. The Black Knight seems to have braced himself for your outburst. It's on you now, Inigo."

"I'm Phillip, a Bard-Fighter," Inigo said.

Everyone looked at him for a long moment. Laurent pushed up his glasses. "Chronos, Landelle, Kierrwyn, Koberia, Blanche, and ... _Phillip_?"

"One of these things is not like the others," Marc sang.

"Is there something wrong with that?" Inigo replied.

Owain twiddled with a pencil. "Oh nothing. He's just hanging a lampshade is all."

Cynthia raised her hand to speak. "Wait, why does he get to do more than one class? Everyone said it was stupid when we got started."

"He's duel classing," Laurent explained, "though I cannot really be sure how effective a _bard-fighter_ would be."

"Yeah, they sound like a big contradiction," Morgan added.

"Alright, alright! Enough picking on my character, guys," Inigo interrupted before anyone else could throw their two cents in.

Everyone settled down after this and Owain was able to continue the campaign. The Black Knight teleported the volunteers away to the guild hall, where they were each handed packs full of random items that they couldn't open until they were in the arena. A magic portal to said arena was opened and the volunteers were let inside. But, by then, Laurent glanced up at the clock and realized he needed to leave for work.

He gathered up his character sheet and messenger bag. "Sorry, but I must be going."

Owain looked up, realizing what he meant and nodded. "Right. Bye, Laurent."

"Hey," Morgan said, grabbing his attention, "Our mom wanted us to say thanks. She feels kinda bad that she's leaving all this work piled up on you."

Laurent gave a small smile and picked up his bag. "That's quite all right. I don't mind sorting books." He then left and went to his car in the back parking lot. It was true, he had no problem with doing more for Robin while she was out. However, even he had to admit that not a lot of people came around this time of year and it'd surely pick up soon when everyone started getting serious projects in class. He got into his car and quickly cleaned his glasses before driving off.

* * *

After replacing the desks and putting the chairs up, the D&D club departed for the evening. Owain had to walk to one of the public buses to get home, since the school buses stop picking students up from school at 4 P.M and both his parents were busy. He knew he should start taking driving classes, it was just that he agreed with his parents that he'd pay for them and he needed to actually save up the money first. That was fine. He understood how to navigate the city well enough.

Just as he was leaving the school building, Inigo caught up to him. "Hey, you waiting for your parents to get you?"

"No," Owain answered. "I'm catching a bus, why?"

"Mind if I go with you?" Inigo asked.

This was very strange. Owain arched his brow. "Why? I thought you got your drivers license, like, last year."

"I did, it's just that I have to pay gas myself and my salary isn't high enough to pay for gas and save for college." Inigo explained. "I usually just take a school bus home, but..."

"Yeah, I get it," said Owain. He then walked on ahead. "It's weird, I keep forgetting we're on the same bus."

They walked away from the school. Once they were a little distance away, Inigo took a deep breath and spoke up. "Owain?"

Owain paused and looked back at Inigo. Now they had completely stopped. "What?"

"Listen, I've got something I have to tell you," Inigo explained, "but whatever you do, please don't tell your dad."

 _Did Inigo commit a crime or something?_ Owain felt his stomach drop at the thought. What if he was on drugs? He knew some kids who got in trouble for that kind of stuff. It didn't help that his parents just near scared him straight with horror stories about drug addicts that they encountered. If this was something serious, then he probably couldn't keep a vow to silence. But there was no way Inigo would talk otherwise. "Sure."

Inigo clenched and unclenched his fists. "Marc and Morgan, they're doing some really stupid things. On my way to club, I overheard Morgan and Marc talking about their mom's accident. They think someone set her up and are planning to investigate on their own to find whoever is responsible."

 _What?!_ Owain felt his head spin. _Those two? Investigating?_ "Y-you're joking, right? Please tell me you're joking."

"I'm not." Inigo affirmed with a serious face. "Apparently they believe that whoever attacked their mom meant to kill her and will probably try again."

"They could get themselves hurt! Or arrested!" Owain exclaimed.

"I know," Inigo responded. "That's why I'm telling you. They already went and stole a woman's wallet and are planning to break into her house. I'm hoping that maybe you could talk some sense into them. I can't talk them out of it, but they both see you as a friend. They'll listen to you."

Owain felt as if his feet were lead. Cold, unmoving lead. From what he overheard from his dad on the phone, Owain already knew that Robin being jumped was a very likely possibility. He also knew that there was a motive there as well. She knew who the leader of the Grimleal was, not that she ever told anyone who. It was probably that gang that was responsible, but that only made the situation even worse. They were notorious for being ruthless, willing to kill whoever got in their way. No doubt they'd make short work of Marc and Morgan. "...I'll try. Thanks for telling me, Inigo."

* * *

 _Just something I'll explain here. I make mention of "bullion" in this chapter. I'm using this as the standard currency, as opposed to gold or dollars. They work essentially like any other paper money. It's a slip of paper that says it's worth that much. I know that in the game a small bullion is 1000 gold. Let's just pretend that there was inflation down the line and a bullion isn't worth nearly as much anymore.  
Another thing I realized was that I messed up the time in chapters 5 and 6. In chapter 1, Robin's family arrived at the hospital around 6 P.M. In chapters 5 and 6, however, I stupidly put down 8 as the time when the incident happened despite the fact that Robin is not a time lord (as far I know). This has now been fixed, but I'm still surprised I messed that up._

 _Now it's time for "Name that Bad Decision!"  
1\. Stealing: Don't steal from people, guys. It's illegal and mean.  
2\. Keeping Quiet: I get you don't want to rat out your friends. But there are just some things that you need to go and tell the authorities about. Stealing a person's wallet and then plotting to break into their place is one of those.  
3\. Investigating: Again, Marc and Morgan are 14, not police, and breaking the law. This particular one is here strictly for storytelling purposes and shouldn't be attempted in real life._

 _There you have it. For those who celebrate it, I hope you had a happy Thanksgiving. And, for everyone, Happy Holidays!_


	9. Chapter 9: A Trip to Funland

_This isn't one of those pairings that I really ship. It's just here strictly for story purposes. I just can't seem to get behind this ship for whatever reason._

 _Pairing Profiles: Panne x Gaius_

 _~In Yarne's father supports, he panics over the possibility of his father cheating on Panne, which would in turn remove him from existence. He also constantly frets about the survival of his race. Because he's neither a time traveler nor the last of his species in this story, I needed to give him another believable thing that he could have his panic attacks over. Gaius is a criminal, which provides plenty of reason for Yarne to worry.  
~Another thing concerning Yarne's father support was that around the B support his father realizes that he's like a symbol of broken promises to Yarne. Gaius, again, made the most sense in this regard because, out of all the possible suitors, he seemed like the least reliable person. I know, harsh.  
~Someone had to teach Yarne how to flee that fast.  
~The intention of this particular family was to be kinda like that broken home. Everyone argues, they're barely scraping by on the bills, the marriage is falling apart..._

* * *

Friday practice had to be Kjelle's favorite time of the week. Not so much because the practice itself was better or more entertaining than on any other day, but more because after practice on Fridays she could lounge around all evening and sleep in the next day without her mom kicking her into high gear. Since today was also her birthday, that only made it better. She was sixteen and that meant she could start learning how to drive.

She grabbed her gear from her locker and turned to go to the gym, only to instead find herself face to face with Noire. Kjelle didn't have the slightest clue how her friend had this strange ability to pop up out of nowhere, but it never failed to catch her off guard. "Hey, Noire," she greeted, "were you waiting or something?"

Noire's hands stayed behind her back. The girl stammered out, "I-I'm sorry... I didn't want to get in your way."

"It's fine, you know that," Kjelle assured. "Was there something you wanted then?"

In a flash, Noire thrust an envelope into Kjelle's chest. "Here you go! Happy Birthday!" Her face burned a brilliant scarlet and she quickly pulled her hands back from Kjelle's breast.

Kjelle caught the lavender envelope before it hit the ground. Noire usually made her cards for her birthday, but even she wasn't normally this jumpy about giving it to her. _Maybe the poor girl worked really hard on it._ Kjelle opened the envelope and took out the card. _That couldn't be it, Noire always puts a lot of effort in these cards._ The card was carefully constructed with colorful paper and scrap-booking stickers, and her careful and looping handwriting was done in metallic and black markers. Kjelle smiled at the delicate handiwork. It must have taken forever to put it together. With care, she opened it up.

The first thing she noticed were two tickets sticking out of a pocket inside. Even though half the name was hidden, she immediately recognized the band and gawked at them with absolute shock. _Unholy Sanity?!_ These guys were her favorite metal band and were playing in town tomorrow. On the other side of the card, Noire wrote:

 _"Happy Birthday! I know I don't usually get you a present, but this year I wanted to make this the best birthday yet, so I got you concert tickets. Take whoever you want with you, and I hope you have a wonderful time. -Noire :)"_

"Wow, Noire, this is really cool," Kjelle said, still very much surprised. "Thanks a ton."

Noire was no less red. "Y-you like it?"

"Of course I do!" Kjelle looped her arm over Noire's shoulder. "We're gonna have a great time tomorrow!"

"Wait, you're taking me?" Noire gawked at her like a startled mouse.

Kjelle laughed. "Of course I am, you goof. Who else would I go with?"

Noire opened her mouth, but quickly shut it again. She looked down, a small smile on her face. "O-okay."

* * *

Most Saturdays, Yarne volunteered his free time to fill in for people at work. This week, however, Nah asked him to come to Funland Amusement Park with her. A strange request really, certainly not one he saw coming. He almost said no, but for whatever unfathomable reason, his mouth jumped ahead of his brain and he said "yes" instead. He almost corrected this mistake too, but she was just so happy that he couldn't go through with it.

So here he was, Saturday morning, picking up Nah at her house. Unlike Yarne, she lived on the outskirts of the city, where it was notably quieter. He took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. It wasn't even a minute later that a petite woman appeared at the door. "Hi!" She greeted with a huge smile. "Are you Nah's friend?"

Awkwardly, Yarne rubbed the back of his neck, his hand vanishing underneath his long, thick hair. "Yeah, my name's Yarne. You're her mom?"

"Yup, I'm Nowi!" She said, holding her small hand out to him.

He used his other hand to shake hers. "Nice to meet you." The more he looked at Nowi, the clearer it became that she seemed pretty young for a mom. Nah was a freshman, but her mom looked barely thirty.

Someone else appeared behind Nowi, a man with curly dark hair. He looked barely older than Nowi. "So yer Nah's friend? Nice to meet ya, I'm Donnel."

At this point, Yarne felt increasingly overwhelmed and took a step back from the door. "Nice to meet you too, sir. Eh... Look, I'm not here to..." _Oh, for Pete's sake, please don't let them think I'm dating her._ "Ah..."

Donnel stepped out on the porch and clapped Yarne on the back; the action made him wince as this guy was stupidly strong. "Ain't no need to be gettin' bashful now. Just make sure our girl don't get hurt is all we ask."

"Yeah, that would be bad," Nowi chirped.

"Of course," Yarne yet again took a step away to put a little distance between them. "We're just friends, really."

Nah slipped past Nowi. "Mom, Dad, you're going to make him run away at this rate. Sorry, Yarne. I usually don't hang out with people."

"Nope, she just coops herself up in her room and studies," Nowi added, slinging herself over Nah's shoulders and grabbing her cheeks. Nah practically sunk down to escape her mom's hold.

"Aw, let's let'em be," Donnel said and ushered Nowi back inside. Before he closed the door though, he passed Yarne a sticky note with a phone number on it. "Call us if anything happens. We'll be there in two shakes."

"Yes, sir," Yarne answered, pocketing the note. Once the door closed, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Nah gave him a funny look, "You sigh crazy loud, you know that?"

"I know," Yarne said and they walked down to his car. It wasn't really impressive by any means, just some banged up used car he got for dirt cheap on his tiny salary. By some miracle, it didn't break down yet, but he's had to cough up a lot of his college savings on repairs and maintenance. At the very least, he kept it clean on the inside, but some people may still have a problem with the patches on the seats and marks on the dashboard. As Nah settled into the passenger seat, Yarne scratched his cheek. "Sorry, it's kinda crumby."

"It's fine," Nah told him, "I've been in worse."

Yarne got to driving and the car fell silent for several minutes. He managed small glances on occasion to check on her, but he only ever saw her staring out the window. "So, um... you're parents seem pretty friendly."

Nah gave a small shrug. "Uh-huh. They're a couple of extroverts."

"They looked pretty young though," Yarne commented and gave a laugh. "I guess they aged better than my parents did."

"No, they _are_ young," Nah corrected. "My mom just turned thirty, actually."

Yarne's brows shot up, but he didn't pull his eyes off the road. "Really? But that's like-"

"She was sixteen when she had me," Nah said, her voice sounded a tad off, though Yarne couldn't quite place how. "My dad was seventeen. Neither of them really had it figured out so..."

 _Sixteen and seventeen? Yeesh, they were both underage._ "You don't have to tell me. I mean, it must be hard."

"It's fine, not like there's much to really hide about it. Most of the faculty knows, I guess I just assume all the students do too." She sighed, though he barely heard it. "I was taken away by social services when I was born because my parents couldn't actually provide for me. Then they went through this huge court struggle just to reclaim custody. They finally got me back a few years ago."

"I'm sorry." Yarne clutched the steering wheel. "So I guess you grew up in a foster home or something for a while?"

"Pretty much, though I switched every few years." Nah frowned. "The last one I was in was... Well, they were the reason my parents won the case."

Yarne felt a stab of sympathy. "We can drop it if you want."

"Sure," Nah agreed. She sat up and pressed her hands to her thighs. "So, have you ever been to Funland?"

"No, I haven't," Yarne answered. "I don't really like amusement parks, so I never went."

"You've never been on any roller coasters?" Nah asked.

"Nope." He said, not ashamed in the slightest. He turned off from the highway and soon after they reached the amusement park. He sat in the driver's seat for a moment and stared at the front gate of the park. "I know I didn't say it before, but I really don't want to be here."

Nah had her hand on the handle and a puzzled look. "And why's that?"

One corner of his mouth twitched and he scratched behind his ear. "I'm surprised you didn't figure it out. I'm pretty jumpy all the time. Heck, you startled me when you tapped me on the shoulder to ask in the first place."

"Tell you what, Yarne, I'm going to show you that amusement parks aren't all that bad," Nah told him. "Now come on, let's go!"

Before Yarne could really respond to that, she was already out of the car and on her way to the front entrance. Yarne took his key out of the ignition and rushed out, barely remembering to lock the car behind him. Catching up to Nah wasn't hard, she was practically half his size and he did track for the past six years. They both got to the front gate together.

The ticket lady looked at the two of them and arced a slim, tweezed eyebrow. "Hello, welcome to Funland Amusement Park. How can I help you?"

She was judging them. Yarne could already tell. "Um, yeah, can we have two tickets?"

"One adult and one child?" Her stare turned down to Nah, who crossed her arms.

"Two adults," Nah corrected. "I'm 14."

"Oh my, I'm sorry," the vendor glanced from one to the other and went to punch in something on her computer. "Are you related or something?"

Nah's eyes widened and she stammered, "W-wha-"

"Yes, we are," Yarne answered quickly. Anything's better than people thinking they were here on a date. Last thing he wanted to be seen as was a pedophile. "She's my younger cousin."

The vendor smiled, looking a tad embarrassed. "Oh, yes, of course. Sorry about that. I just saw how tiny she is and I kinda got a bit paranoid, like, 'what if this is one of those crazy kidnappings you hear about on the news.'" She produced two tickets. "That'll be 54 bullion."

"I got it," Nah said, fishing her wallet out of her bag and putting the money down. "That should do it."

They took their tickets, went past security, and were finally free to roam the park. Yarne immediately felt uneasy though. The place was crowded with people. Children ran off ahead of their parents, tripping up strangers. Young teenagers walked hand in hand or in large packs. Security guards littered about with their gazes on the park goers. The chatter of all these people, their laughs and the screams of small children, was a deafening roar.

"Why'd you tell her that?" Nah questioned, snapping his attention away. "We're not related."

Yarne laughed awkwardly and looked up and away from the younger. "That? Oh well, it's kinda creepy, you know, for a senior to be taking a freshman out like this? I mean, don't get me wrong, I know a lot of guys who date freshmen, but it's really... eh..." _Awkward?_

"You are really something else," she replied. "I don't see anything wrong with it."

"Well, it's easy for you to say," Yarne pointed out, "some guys are real jerks and don't like waiting... so they just don't. Doesn't matter if she's too young."

Nah once again crossed her arms. "And how does this apply here? Are you telling me you're a jerk too and were lured in by my adorable freshman charm?"

"No! No, that's not what I'm saying at all!" Yarne shot back. "Oh just drop it, please? This is really, really strange."

Thankfully, Nah did drop the topic and she dragged him off by the hand. So began the long process of picking a ride for them to go on. The first to be eliminated were the log flume (they'd be soaked and didn't have any towels) and the scrambler (looks like some crazy, spinning deathtrap), and it only went down hill from there. After several other options were discarded Nah finally asked, "Okay, how about the teacups?"

"Teacups?" Yarne was absolutely baffled.

Nah slapped her hand onto her face and groaned. "Yeah, the teacups. It's pretty much the most basic ride in the park. Even little kids go on it."

"Oh, okay?" Well, if small children could go on, it must be safe.

It took a few minutes to reach the teacups, but what Nah forgot to mention was that the teacups spun around. Yarne noticed this almost immediately after they stepped in line. At this point though, he already killed a dozen rides and felt undeniably guilty about putting Nah through so much frustration, so he didn't say anything. That didn't stop him from staring or becoming increasingly nervous at how fast the teacups were spinning

When they finally got on the ride and were seated in the teacup, Yarne grasped the metal ring curiously. No seat belts, no harnesses; what was keeping everybody in the cups? Was this all there was?

"Alright, when this ride starts, you gotta grab the bar and pull so that we can spin around," Nah told him. "Got it?"

"Y-yeah..." He gripped the bar even tighter. _Oh sweet Naga, save me!_

The ride gave a whirl and the teacups all started to move. It wasn't long before it sped up to its highest speed. All around, he heard the squeals of children and cackling laughter, but he wasn't one of them. His heart hammered in his chest as he clutched the ring for dear life. _What if this cup flies off? What if I fly out? This isn't safe, this isn't safe at all!_ Yarne ducked his head down between his arms and stared down at his feet. They were the only thing that wasn't spinning, but he could still feel his guts churning from the momentum.

"No no no no no no no no..." Yarne whimpered under his breath. "Let me off... let me off..." Suddenly, it all stopped and he sat there trembling, too terrified to look up. _Am I dead?_

A hand touched his shoulder and gave him a nudge. "Hey, Yarne, the ride's over. Come on."

His head snapped up and he found people exiting their cups and heading for the gate. He stood and followed Nah on shaky knees, then immediately sunk into a nearby bench.

"When you said you were jumpy, I didn't think you would be _this_ jumpy," Nah said a minute later with a water bottle in hand. She twisted off the cap, took a swig, and offered him some. When all she got was a slight shake of his head, she sighed. "So I guess I should take this as you aren't going on any rides."

"I know it's sounds stupid, but I'm some sort of basket case," Yarne replied with an awkward chuckle. "I just panic. Sorry, I know you probably wanted to go on huge roller coasters and stuff. I just ruined your day."

Her gaze fell to the water bottle in her hands. Suddenly, she smiled eagerly. "You didn't ruin anything. This is an amusement park, there's still a lot of things we can do!"

Before Yarne could even thoroughly calm down, Nah pulled him along to their next destination in the park: the arcade. Almost immediately, Nah gravitated to the air hockey setup and sported the largest grin he ever seen.

"Let's play it." She declared and already popped in a couple coins. The game spat out a puck and hissed air. She grabbed the nearest block, a red one. "I am a master at this."

Yarne hesitantly took the other block. He only played air hockey a couple of times, he knew he wasn't any good at the game. "Ready." Nah smacked the puck his way and he leaped away with a shriek while the scoreboard added a point.

"Yarne, you have to block the puck." Nah reminded. "The puck's in your slot, so serve it."

He took the puck and knocked it to her, and she easily batted it back. This time, Yarne tried to stop it but the puck somehow looped around and still got into his goal. He groaned and watched another point get added to Nah's side. With a frustrated sigh, he got the puck out again and repeated the process. Point after point, Nah got closer to victory.

The buzzer sounded, signalling the end of the game. Yarne couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed. Sure he wasn't any good at the game, but losing never felt good.

"Cheer up, you can beat me next time." Nah said and lightly punched his arm. "You wanna play skee ball?"

 _At least it isn't competitive._ "Sure." Nah paid for her own game while he paid for his and six balls rolled down into the slot. Yarne watched her at first. She put way too much force behind her rolls, so the balls would bounce off the 50 slot and into the 10 hole. With this in mind, Yarne rolled his first ball.

It bounced over the 40 and into the 50.

Nah gawked with wide eyes and a huge grin crossed her face. "Lucky shot."

Yarne gave a bashful smile and rolled the next ball, this time aiming for the 100 hole on the left side. It flew from the ramp and went clean into the hole. From there, he kept trying to repeat this. The next two went in, but the final two missed the 100 and slid down to the 10. He was just shy a 100 points from a prize. Some strange sense of determination broiled in his gut and he put down a couple more coins to play again. Six balls later, he only got 10 points higher than his first one.

Just as he was about to put in another couple of coins, Nah stopped him. "Hey, don't worry about it. Nobody ever wins these prizes."

"One more try." Yarne pushed in the two coins and took the first ball. This time he could only seem to get the 30 and 40 holes and got at least a 100 points less than the first two tries. Disappointed, he turned away from the game. "Okay, what now?"

Nah glanced around the arcade and her eyes lit up eagerly. "Have you ever gone rock climbing?"

Yarne shifted uneasily. "Well no, why?"

"I think you'd be good at it." She answered and took his hand. "Come on, I'll show you!"

Once again, Yarne was dragged off by the freshman practically half way across the park. She stopped at a large rock-esque structure with colorful handholds littered all over it. People were scaling the rock wall, attached by harnesses. He couldn't even see the top because of the glaring sun overhead, but he felt undeniably dizzy. "C-can we not?"

"I promise, it's completely safe. Come on, we can talk to one of attendants if that helps." Nah then guided him to a man in a park uniform shirt. "Hey, how much are those harnesses built to hold?"

The attendant looked at her curiously. "Certainly more than your weight, girl." When neither of them seem amused by his quip, he answered, "They can easily hold 300 pounds. We also check and maintain them daily. Trust me, there won't be any accidents so long as you follow the rules."

Nah smiled. "Awesome. My friend would like to try it."

Yarne paled significantly.

The attendant didn't seem to notice and added, "You know, if you complete the hard side of the wall, there's a prize."

"He can do that." Nah said before Yarne could get a word out.

"Cool, come with me, man. I'll get you suited up." The attendant led Yarne in the gate and there came this mandatory five minute lesson about rock climbing. How to put the harness on, getting a good grip, that sort of thing. The entire time, Yarne only responded with stiff nods and shot occasional glances back at Nah, who watched him eagerly.

Once Yarne was hooked to the wall, he heard Nah call from behind the fence, "Don't look down!"

Swallowing hard, Yarne adjusted the helmet for the third time since putting it on and grabbed the highest handholds he could reach. With a deep breath, he found one of the pegs and pushed up with his foot, quick to find another for his second foot. He paused to collect himself.

 _It's fine, I'm only 3 feet off the ground, right? No big deal. No big deal._ He brought his feet up, one at a time, to the next holds and pushed up. His fingers slipped on the handhold and he barely caught himself. In the possess, unfortunately, he smacked into the wall face and hit his groin on a handhold. In pain, he bit his lip and pressed his thighs as close as he could without falling. "Sweetmotheroffuckinggoddessalmighty!" he whined under his breath, tears in his eyes.

He probably clung to that spot for the better part of a minute, because he heard the attendant call from below, "Hey, man? You okay?"

"Fine," he squeaked. Despite his junk being on fire, he made an effort to keep climbing. It'd be embarrassing if he had to get off this wall because of it, even more so if they asked what was wrong. So he kept scrabbling upwards, his fingers sore from clutching the small handholds so tight and his legs unwilling to separate too far any more. About three quarters of the way up, his body screamed in agony and he wondered if he should just let it go.

"You can do it, Yarne!" Nah yelled, though he didn't dare look down to see her. "You're almost there!"

 _I am... aren't I._ He held his breath and pulled himself up. Just a little further. The button was almost within reach. He slapped his hand onto another handhold and hoisted himself up. Then his other hand slapped on the button. A loud ring resounded in his ears. His hand fell from the button and caught on the closest handhold. His voice trembled. "I-I d-d-did it... I-I did it!" Another thought immediately invaded his mind. "How do I get down?!"

"Alright, listen! You want to hold onto the rope and just ease back with your feet to the wall," the attendant instructed from below. "Nice and easy!"

Yarne closed his eyes and took his hands off the wall and immediately brought them to the rope. He fell back, but notably slower than he thought. He finally chanced a look down and saw the ground coming to meet him. It wasn't long before he made it down and he stood on shaky knees as the attendant helped him out of the harness.

"That was great, man!" The attendant told him. "Come on, you get to pick out a prize."

Nah met him at the prize booth and Yarne turned to her. "You pick. I have to go to the bathroom." He then retreated to check if he bruised his dick or something, since it still felt tender. He got to the stall and found, by some miracle, that it wasn't in fact bruised. Relieved, he returned to the booth, where Nah waited for him. In her hands was a huge stuffed rabbit.

"Here you go," Nah proclaimed, presenting the large toy to him. It was made of fluffy brown fabric and had black glass eyes. "You did great."

Yarne blinked. "Don't you want the prize though?"

"What? No." She gave him a funny look. "I don't really do stuffed animals. Besides, it's your prize." Nah lowered the rabbit and she turned her head down. "Why? You don't like it?"

"No, I do," Yarne assured. "It's very... cute." He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. Honestly, he meant for her to take it, but if she didn't like dolls to begin with then there was nothing to be done about that. He took hold of the stuffed animal and hugged it to his chest. "Thanks, Nah."

* * *

 _The dank air reeked of mildew, she made a point not to breathe too deeply. Before her stood a man, his tan skin extended down into his low buttoned shirt and a skunk striped goatee gave the illusion of a long face. His spider-like fingers rapped on the handle of a holstered pistol and his dark eyes stared her down. They bore into her, searched her expression for even a hint of fear. She wouldn't give him that satisfaction._

 _She crossed her arms. "What do you want?"_

 _"You know what I want," he shot back. "The police offered you a deal, I'm asking for your silence."_

 _"My silence," she repeated. The corner of her lip tugged into a sneer. "There's nothing you can do to assure my silence. After everything you people put me through? I'd love to see you squirm."_

 _A deep frown itched at his mouth. "If you think the police will protect you, you're sadly mistaken."_

 _"You think you can intimidate me?" She laughed. "I can't be swayed, not now. Not after Mom..." She trailed and her hands clenched into fists. More than anything, she wanted to scream at him, but she knew that would be foolish. "I'm done here." She turned to leave._

 _A hand grabbed her by the shoulder and cold metal pressed at the nape of her neck. He chided her, each word a hiss in her ear, "You are not in any position to bargain. I can kill you right now if I want to and, as you know, dead men keep their secrets."_

 _She grit her teeth, a chilling sweat broke on her temple. "So why don't you? It'd make your life so much easier."_

 _"I like to think of it as a second chance," he cooed, almost sounding genuinely tender. "You keep your mouth shut, and I keep my finger off this trigger. Understand?"_

 _Despite herself, a grin cracked across her face, "You're just a classic villain." She shook his hand off and proceeded to the door. "Threaten me all you like, I'm not afraid to die." She slammed the door shut._

Robin blinked as she found herself sitting on her knees in the shower, the water had long turned cold. Shivering, she shut off the shower and stood up. Water snaked down her goose-bumped skin, dripped from her fingertips, her hair, her chin. Every movement was sluggish and stiff as she stepped out and wrapped herself in the closest towel.

A memory, an actual memory. It felt like she was trapped in a dream, and yet she swore she could still feel that man's hand grasp her shoulder, the gun press against her neck. Despite being completely unable to remember his name, she felt like she knew that face for a very, very long time. As if she watched that face grow older with years. He was painfully familiar and yet she couldn't figure out who he was.

Or the secret that she must have been keeping. Somehow she got involved with the police and she made some sort of deal with them. Perhaps Henry would know, but then again, it might just be best to feign ignorance for now until she figured out what that secret was.

* * *

 _Sorry for the wait here. I got a little writer's block on writing Yarne and Nah's trip to the amusement park. Felt like it was necessary to bring these two back in this because so far both of them have collectively had something like six lines of side-character dialogue. They'll be doing stuff later, it's just that I feel like they deserved some screen time since it became the Owain, Inigo, Marc, and Morgan show._

 _Funny thing happened when I was rolling for this chapter. Robin actually rolled a 20 on remembering something, so I was like "okay, how detailed?" and she rolled a freaking 4 on the d4. Actual. Full blown. Flashback. I talked with the editor of the story, who suggested I also roll a d6 to see how plot relevant this flashback would be and she got a 6. Just. Wow. She had, like, a 1.25% percent chance to actually have a flashback, but it ended up being important too. I wasn't prepared for this._

 _I also rolled for Yarne's success in skee ball (d100, round to the nearest point value) and when he rock climbed. Turns out, he rolled a 4 but then an 18 for catching himself (d20), so that translated to him getting sack-tapped by one of the rock wall pegs. He also rolled a 16 to keep climbing, so... yeah... Thank you, dice roller._


	10. Chapter 10: We Worry

_As we saw in the last chapter, I brought in this pairing. Oh yes, this wonderful pairing. Surprisingly, this isn't going to be the longest profile though because there were a couple big reasons for the pairing as opposed to a bunch of little ones._

 _Pairing Profiles: Nowi x Donnel_

 _~In context of this story, Donnel was the best suitor for Nowi (I mean, besides Ricken, but I wouldn't ship him with anyone) because he's one of the younger characters. I wanted someone young to actually make use of Nah's backstory. She was in a foster home in the game, which is the root cause of her mature act. It felt like I'd be ripping out half her character if this wasn't used somehow.  
~Continuing from the above point, Nah's father gets very impatient in their B support. I feel like the teen pregnancy bit that's going on in this particular story makes that make sense. Generally, I can't see Donnel getting impatient with anyone, he's just so nice, but what if their having a child young was a sore spot?_

* * *

On Saturday night, Lucina sat quietly at the dinner table. She kept her head low, didn't look up at her father or say much of anything. Cynthia could nudge a response, even Sumia managed to get her to talk if given the time, but not Chrom. The eldest was like this since Chrom grounded her.

Sumia gave a weighted sigh and gathered up the plates on the table. "Cynthia, sweetie, could you wash the dishes?"

"Sure, Mom." Cynthia took the plates and hurried away to the kitchen, away from the heavy air that hung in the dinning room.

"Okay, you two, I'm ending this now." Sumia turned to Chrom, who was getting up to leave, and placed her hands square on her hips. "Sit back down."

Chrom furrowed his brows. "I've got work I need to finish."

"It can wait five minutes," Sumia said. "You both need to stop moping and just make up, a week's more than long enough. Now I'm going to step out, but I expect you to talk."

Her husband looked almost surprised by her tone. "I didn't think you could be this assertive."

"Not now. Sort it out." Sumia left the dining room, the door shut behind her.

With a sigh, Chrom sat down next to Lucina. "You know why I did what I did, right?" All he got from her was a small nod. "I know I was harsh. It's just... you've always been so well behaved, I didn't know what to do. I'm supposed to teach you right from wrong, but the last thing I want is for you to resent me for it." He carefully cupped her cheek in his hand to turn her head up and look her in the eyes. He was faced with tears rolling down her face and a quivering lip. "I still love you." He rubbed one of the tear tracks away and kissed her on the forehead. "There. Now give me a smile, please?"

Lucina pushed a tiny smile to her face, though it was very weak.

"I'm sure you've learned your lesson," he concluded. "You're not grounded anymore."

That night, Lucina lay awake as she stared blankly at the ceiling. She should have been content with her father's words, yet her heart still ached. She pressed her hands to her face. _Maybe I'm just selfish..._

 _Or maybe I need to make more mistakes._

Lucina froze at the thought. Of course, it all made sense. She never made mistakes, she always did as she was told. But, by not making them, she learned nothing. That's what Gerome said, making mistakes helps you learn! How could it have taken her half a week understand that? And if what she did was no big deal, then maybe that meant she should make a bigger mistake. Yes, that made sense: bigger mistakes mean bigger lessons.

But what to do?

* * *

There's no such thing as a horrible job. That's what Owain liked to think at least. Even he had to admit though that cashier wasn't by any means glamorous or brag worthy. Most days, he met impatient, rude, or down right angry customers, but he wasn't allowed to call them out on it. The best he could do was meet their negativity with a smile and wish them a good day (no, the best day they ever had!) and smile wider than necessary when they made it all too clear that they thought he was crazy. He wouldn't say he was being a smart ass, that would require a well place snark somewhere. No, he was totally trolling.

"Have a wonderful day, ma'am!" He told a woman as she stuffed her wallet back into her purse and her child threw a tantrum.

She fixed her hair. "Yes. Thank you." She then ushered the child to the door.

Owain glanced down at the paper bags on the counter and called out to her. "Um, ma'am?" He grabbed the bag of groceries she forgot in her rush and hurried over to her. "Here you go."

"Oh, thank you..." She laughed awkwardly. The child whined, her words almost incomprehensible at this point, and the mother cringed. She took her groceries from him and retreated from the store.

Owain returned to his register and was met by a very particular pair of twins from school. In Morgan's hands was an industrial pair of scissors packaged in one of those pain-in-the-ass-to-open plastic cases. He rung it through, though eyed them a little suspiciously. "How's it going?"

The way Marc scuffed his shoe against the floor and Morgan kept her gaze low immediately tipped him off. "Fine," Marc answered stiffly.

"Fine," Owain repeated and leaned forward. "Listen, can I talk to you two? It's important. Just wait for me outside, okay?"

Morgan finally looked up at him, fear in her eyes. "Okay."

They paid for the scissors and Owain went to his boss's office in the back. "Um, sir? Mind if I leave early today?"

His boss gave him a confused look. "Can I have a reason?"

"I... uh, I'm not feeling well," Owain lied. "I think I might be coming down with something."

"Do you need to call your parents to pick you up?" asked the elder.

"No, they're both at work. I can get home on my own." He assured. "Thanks." He never asked to leave work early like that before. Not once. He almost expected his boss to change his mind and say that he couldn't leave, but Owain clocked out without anyone protesting and left. _That was much easier than I expected._

Thankfully, Marc and Morgan did wait for him. Morgan seemed to have composed herself during that time. "What do you want?"

He led them around back to talk, better not to have customers overhearing them. "I know what you two are planning to do, and I'm warning you, it's going to go badly. You could get serious trouble, so just leave it to the police, okay?"

Morgan scowled. "Let me guess, Inigo told you?"

"And if he did?" Owain crossed his arms and stared them down. "It doesn't make a difference. We worry about you two."

"Morgan, maybe we should-"

"Not now, Marc," Morgan snapped at her brother and then prodded Owain on the chest. "Look, you can't talk us out of it. So just leave us alone."

He took hold of her hand. "What will your parents say? Your mom will probably feel even worse if she knows that her children are putting themselves in danger like this for her sake. And don't you think your dad's going through enough as is? Think, honest to Naga, think about them right now."

"We did, that's why we're doing this." Marc spoke up. "They tried to kill her, Owain. We're sure of it. And if they tried once, they can try again."

"Our parents might not like it, but we can't just sit here and do nothing," Morgan said. She pulled her hand free of his. "Even if it's illegal, we're going to stop them and there's no talking us out of it now. The only way you'll stop us is by calling the cops. Here and now."

"Morgan!" Marc grabbed her sleeve. "Are you crazy, what if he actually does?"

She frowned, but kept her eyes fixed firmly on Owain. "He won't. He's trying to keep us _out_ of trouble."

 _Damn it..._ Owain rubbed a hand down his face. This little freshman actually cornered him. He could always call her on her bluff, but that would require bluffing too since he really didn't want to get the police involved. Seeing as she didn't think he would anyways, he doubted that Morgan would fall for it. "So you don't intend to stand down."

"No." Morgan affirmed.

"Then I guess I have no choice," Owain decided. "I'm going with you."

For a split second, the twins resembled stress toys with how much their eyes bulged. Marc stammered, "Y-you're...?"

"...joining us?" Morgan stared at Owain, as if unable to fathom the situation. "Wait, what was the point of trying to talk us down if you were just going to _help_ us?"

"If I can't keep you from doing this in the first place, then I should at least steer you away from as much trouble as I can," Owain remarked. "I've got some ground rules for you though."

Marc arched his brows. "Ground rules?"

"Yes." Owain lifted a hand and counted each off on his fingers. "One: we don't steal anything. Two: we don't break anything either. We're just going in, looking for clues, and then leaving. That's it. Got it?"

Both twins nodded in agreement. But Marc piped up with, "If we can't steal anything, how do we get evidence?"

"Pictures and notes. The point is that any evidence needs to stay in her possession for the police to find." Owain explained. "Also, she's probably going to notice if something goes missing, so we better not take that risk."

With that, they set off to Aversa's house via city bus. Unsurprisingly, it being a Sunday afternoon, people piled on and filtered out by the dozen. The noise level was somewhere past outdoor voices but not quite shouting, not that the loud whirring of the bus and hiss of the door helped. The three of them took their seats at the back of the bus and quietly discussed their game plan while Morgan tore open the packaging of the scissors and cut a palm sized square out of the ridged plastic. She stowed both away in her sweatshirt pocket.

The twins' plan was to use said piece of plastic to open the lock on the door knob and hope that she didn't also bolt lock her front door. If so, then they'd have to look around and find another way inside. After that, it's just search the house for clues as quickly and thoroughly as possible, leave the wallet somewhere, and get out. This plan of their's was plotted out since Thursday, and they staked out her house all Friday and Saturday just to find a good time to try this. As shifty as it was, Owain was undeniably impressed.

After getting off the bus, they walked several blocks down to Aversa's house. Owain couldn't help but feel some relief that she had a clear need for privacy, and so had a high wooden fence around her lot. It gave them plenty of cover. Morgan scurried over to the garage and peered inside the window. She came back and informed, "Her car's not here."

"Perfect," Marc replied. "Now let's get in."

They went to the door and Morgan took out the plastic square. She slide it in between the door and the frame and tried the knob. "Damn. Bolt locked. We're going to have to look for another way in."

"Owain, you check the back and left side of the house. I'll cover the right and, Morgan, you get the front." Marc instructed. "Morgan and I will probably finish first, so we'll help you finish when we're done."

The Junior nodded and turned to go to the left side of the house and begin his search. Before he could round the corner though, Morgan stopped them both. "Guys, this window's unlocked."

It was the same window Morgan peaked into the garage through. _Aversa actually forgot to lock all her windows..._

Owain and Marc gathered around as Morgan opened the window and peered inside. "No alarm here either..."

"Maybe there's an alarm between the garage and the main house," Owain pointed out. "We should check for a different window."

Morgan sighed and slid the window shut. Another three minutes of searching brought them to find another open window on Marc's side. It opened into a bedroom. The three of them climbed inside. Once everyone was in, Morgan closed the window again. From there it was once again a matter of planning.

"Okay, so all three of us look around first so we know the layout. Then, one of us goes on watch duty in case Aversa comes home." Marc walked to the door and pushed it open.

"That's if she doesn't live with anyone," Owain pointed out. He followed Marc out of the bedroom. The self-guided tour of the single floor house didn't take more than a couple minutes, but once it was over, they all regrouped in the living room. "I'll keep watch. You two know what you're looking for?"

Morgan nodded. "Yeah, of course we do. Come on, Marc, we'll check the bedroom first" She led Marc back to Aversa's bedroom.

* * *

For the next several minutes, the twins searched the bedroom. Morgan poked through the planner on her desk while Marc went through the dresser drawers. The planner had mostly dates and meetings written, generally what you'd expect an adviser to jot down. Nothing truly incriminating, as far as Morgan was concerned. She put the planner back on the desk and turned to check the nightstand.

Meanwhile, Marc pulled a DD sized bra from the dresser, the cups almost completely composed of lace. "Whoa." His cheeks blushed a light pink as he gawked.

"Would you put that away and focus?" Morgan chided.

Shaking himself, he replaced the bra back with the others and started to shuffle through them. Whether that be out of need to search for clues or curiosity is anyone's guess.

Then he discovered a metal box hidden towards the back corner of the drawer. He opened it, and a small song began to play, startling him. He dropped the box and several rings fell out. "Oh, crap!" Marc dropped to his hands and knees and looked for all the rings.

"You klutz." Morgan scoffed as she went back to work.

"Sorry," Marc grumbled and found the last ring and put them away in the box. He wasn't sure exactly which ones went where, but hoped Aversa wouldn't notice. He almost put the music box back, but realized the felt ring display had partially popped out too. Normally he would have dismissed this, but he could actually see something underneath and so removed the felt entirely to reveal a secret compartment. Inside was a tiny notebook about as long as his fingers.

Morgan glanced back at him. "What'd you find?"

"Hold on," Marc said and opened the notebook. Inside, dense script thoroughly covered almost each page. Marc caught names, dates, times, addresses in these notes. In some spots, it was pages listing contact information. On the back seven pages, there were pictures of people taped inside, most crossed out, with tiny letters written across their faces. "I think I found her contacts list or something."

"Take pictures of all the pages, I'll keep looking." She instructed before returning to the nightstand.

So Marc set the little book on the dresser and flattened it out on the first page with his fingers so he could take a clear picture with his phone. He then flipped to the next page and took another picture. Then another on the next and so on. At some point, he stopped trying to skim over the words and focused solely on making sure he could see the images clearly.

Behind him, he heard the flicking of a lighter and glanced back. "What are you doing, Morgan?"

She held a key in one hand, the lighter in the other. "Making it a little easier to get back in here if we have to."

He sighed. Of course she was. He then got back to snapping pictures of the book.

Almost ten minutes later, Marc finished with the book and returned it to the music box. He carefully popped the ring holder back in and replaced the box behind the haphazardly stacked bras. He left the bedroom and met up with Morgan so that they could continue their search of the house. Beyond what they found in the bedroom, the most "incriminating" things they found were some empty pill bottles (with her name actually on the label) and ammunition stocked up in her hallway closet and a kitchen cabinet. Neither of these were necessarily criminal, but they took pictures of them just to be on the safe side.

Marc, who had been going through a box they found in one cabinet, stood up from the dining table and returned the box to its original place. "I think that's all we're going to find here. We should get going."

Morgan nodded and closed a different cabinet, filled with drinking glasses. "We probably should. She could be home at any minute."

They told Owain it was time to go, and it was more than clear how relieved he was to hear it. Just to be safe, they all crawled out the window them came in through, Marc shutting it behind him. Then they ran away from that house as fast as their legs could take them. Marc was sure that they'd been running for three blocks straight when the three of them finally slowed down.

They were a panting mess for some time until they finally caught their breath and pressed on to the bus stop.

* * *

There was always a lot to be done, but Aversa liked to have at least a small moment to herself every now and again. She returned home, only to immediately gravitate to the sink, where she poured herself a glass of water. Just as she brought the cool glass to her lips though, her eyes came to find a black smudge on the side. She lowered the glass to inspect it. "Is this... soot?"

Where did that come from? She put the glass down and checked the other glasses in the cabinet. Several others were also smudged, though the origin of them remained a mystery to her. Given the choice though between formulating an answer that may be wrong and not worrying about it, she decided on the latter. Removing the glasses from the cabinet, she set them off to the side to be rewashed later and turned to leave her kitchen.

That's when she spotted her wallet on the floor by the couch. She swiped it off the ground and checked, finding all its contents still there. "It was here? Damn it. Now I have to call the credit card company."

* * *

It was Wednesday afternoon when Owain next saw Inigo outside of class. Inigo stopped him on the way to club. It wouldn't take a psychic to know what was on his mind. "Did you talk Marc and Morgan out of it?" Despite Inigo's calm expression, his voice betrayed his concern.

Owain looked up at the ceiling lights, as if he could find the answer there. Up inside one, a wasp was trapped and hopelessly bounced against the panel. _If this is some half-assed attempt at symbolism, Naga, then I don't appreciate it._ "No, I didn't." He caught Inigo's brows shoot up with alarm. How does someone say that they committed a crime?

"So they went through with it?" Inigo asked.

Owain rubbed the back of his neck. "We should probably get to club."

"Oh no, we're discussing this," Inigo insisted. "What happened?"

"Here's not really the best place..."

"Owain." Impatience edged Inigo's tone.

He wasn't sure if he should be anxious or annoyed. "What?"

"You're dodging the question," Inigo stated. "Did they break into her house?"

Owain closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Yes, we did."

With that answer came a long pause as Inigo processed this. He stared at him as if Owain grew a second head before he finally stammered out, "'We?' Y-you said 'we'."

"Yes, we. First person plural subject." Owain retorted.

"So you... you helped them break in?" Inigo questioned. When all he got from him was a stiff nod, he raised his voice slightly. "Are you crazy? I thought the idea what to keep Marc and Morgan from doing it in the first place?"

"No, you're right, it was," Owain agreed. "I confronted them about their plan, but they refused to back down. So I joined them. It's the best I could do. I know how cops work, so I could steer them out of trouble, at least for a while. And if I can keep them from being destructive, then maybe we can avoid getting caught all together. It's stupid, I know, but it's the only thing I could think of at the time." A pause, Owain chewed the inside of his cheek before the silence ate him alive. He continued in a haste to kill the quiet. "Listen, you don't have to help. You can walk away if you want. It'll be like you were never involved to begin with. I understand if you want to."

Inigo, oddly enough, gave a forced chuckle as he dropped his hand onto Owain's shoulder, "I'm not walking away. If this is the right thing to do, then I'm with you guys."

"You sure?" Owain asked.

"Yeah." Inigo affirmed.

Owain grinned, though all it did was accentuate the dark circles under his eyes. "Come on, we still need to get to club." The two walked on to the classroom, where they were met with stares from Laurent, Ricken, and Noire (who quickly turned her head down). The only one there who wasn't eyeing them suspiciously was Cynthia, who was very much oblivious to the other three. Owain and Inigo took their seats and then came what felt like an eternity's wait for Marc and Morgan to show up. The twins arrived about eight minutes later, but no one spoke a word. The two sat down and Owain decided to just move on. "Alright, so on with today's session."

"Owain," Laurent cut in, "before we begin, might we address something?"

A chill rattled down his spine. "Sure. What's up?"

Laurent adjusted his glasses, the light glinting off the lenses for the briefest of moments. "Some of us couldn't help but overhear your conversation with Inigo. What exactly did you mean by a break-in?"

Suddenly, Owain's heart rapidly slammed against his ribs. He knew it. He knew he shouldn't have discussed it in the open! Looking around, desperate for help, Owain found Inigo devoid of color, and the twins with similar looks of shock. Everyone else, with the exception of Cynthia, waited expectantly. Owain sincerely wished he could run. "I... uh... ..."

"Whoa, whoa, wait!" Cynthia cut in, confused. "What are you guys even talking about? What break-in?" She was mostly ignored.

It was Inigo who spoke up. "Morgan and Marc believe that someone wants to kill Robin. They want to find whoever's responsible."

"So... I helped them break into someone's house to search for clues," Owain added, nervously shifting in his seat.

"This is a matter that would be best left in the hands of the authorities," Laurent remarked, "something you should know."

"The police can't help." Morgan's statement grabbed the attention of the entire group. "We _know_ it was the Grimleal behind it."

"Back up, what do you mean the police can't help?" Owain questioned.

Marc spoke up, "Because we looked through that book we found and she made several mentions of moles in the police force. Any new information on them is leaked back to the gang and then these moles compromise the investigation."

Noire, who nervously toyed with her pen, pointed out, "The Grimleal are very dangerous too. They kill people who get in their way."

"Believe me, we know that," Inigo replied.

"So why would you go through with this?" Laurent questioned. "You do realize you're breaking the law and could be arrested for it."

Morgan's brow twitched downward, practically shadowing her eyes. Frustration tugged at her lips as she clenched her pencil ever tighter. It was a miracle that it hadn't snapped. "Of course we realize that! We're not stupid, Laurent. Answer me this though, what's better: the zero percent chance that these guys will be tried and punished for their actions, or the low chance that they will if we work to bring them down despite the risks involved?"

No one had an easy answer, or even an answer at all.

Cynthia raised her hand to speak. "If I'm following this right, then basically we gain a small chance of these guys being brought down if you work against them."

"That's what I just said."

"So what about if more people help?" Cynthia asked. "Would your chances go up?"

Realization flashed in both twins' eyes and Marc turned to Laurent. "How about it? Would our chances go up?"

Laurent gave a weighted sigh, seeing where this was going. "One could safely assume that they would."

"Alright!" Cynthia pumped her fist into the air. "Then I'm helping!"

"This isn't a game, Cynthia," Inigo reminded. "You could get hurt."

"I know that!" Cynthia shot back, determination in her eyes. "But I want to help however I can."

Noire put down her pen, her hands shaking. "I-if it's okay with the rest of you, I'd like to help too."

Everyone looked to Laurent. _What's it going to be?_ "You don't have to if you don't want to." Owain was surprised by his own voice, sounding much stronger than earlier.

"Insane as this is, I see your point," Laurent said, pressing his fingers to his temples. Under his hand was an unnerved smile. "I cannot believe I'm saying this, but I will assist you however I can."

 _So then that just leaves..._ "Teacher, are you...?"

"Oh please don't tell on us!" Noire suddenly wailed.

Ricken gaped at them for a few seconds before he snapped out of it. He clasped his hands in his lap. "I... uh... I really didn't decide what to do here..."

"Then help us," Owain insisted. "Please, there must be some reason to."

Ricken looked to each of the students, and slowly the bewilderment melted away to seriousness. "You're right, there is," the teacher agreed. "Robin and Henry are both friends, same with a lot of your parents. There's not a lot that I can do, but I definitely will keep your secret."

Cynthia shot up to her feet, "Alright! Now we're really The Justice Cabal!"

Marc laughed. "Yeah, I guess we are, huh?"

With a quivering lip, Morgan turned her head down and rubbed at her eyes.

Her brother turned his attention to her and rested a hand on her shoulder. "What's wrong, sis?"

"Nothing." She sniffled and looked up, tears in her eyes and a small smile on her face. "I'm just glad you were right."

* * *

 _Before anything else, I'm going to address something that came up in the comments. No, I didn't intend to write a concert scene. I've never been to a concert and had zero ideas about what I would do for it. Feel free to fill in the blanks there. Heck, comment with your idea of what happened at the concert! I'd love to hear it. [And if I really like it, it might be mentioned in story. ;) ]  
As always, thanks so much. You guys have been a great crowd and I look forward to when I can get the next chapter out._

 _Now, time for another round of "Name that Bad Decision!"  
1\. Making mistakes on purpose: The insane leap in logic here aside, there's a reason a mistake is a mistake. If you're doing stupid shit on purpose then that's you just being stupid.  
2\. Not calling the police: Seriously, this plot would be a lot shorter if these characters would take the sane route of letting the police handle this.  
3\. Break-in: Do I even need to spell this one out?  
4\. Vigilantism: Again, taking the law into their own hands.  
5\. Becoming an accomplice: It's probably not smart to aid criminals. You know, that's kinda how you get in trouble too.  
6\. Viva la Resistance: They're high school students. Fighting a gang. Unarmed. What could possibly go wrong?_

 _Alright, so Happy Holidays, I'll see you next chapter!_


	11. Chapter 11: Early Stages

_This pairing shouldn't require some huge leap in logic to understand. Ship it or not, this is just made sense for the story._

 _Pairing Profiles: Sully x Lon'qu_

 _~Lon'qu's fear of women always seems to be blown out of proportion, to the point where it makes the most sense that he'd settle with Sully, the least womanly of all the potential mothers.  
~I wanted a father who would hold some high expectations for Kjelle, similar to Sully's, without taking them to the extreme that some fathers could. Lon'qu, being the serious man he is, seemed to fit just fine.  
~Something about Kjelle's appearance screams Chon'sin. I can't really explain it. It just makes sense to me if she had heritage there.  
~Again, like Owain and Brady, her hair matches the official art with this pairing. I don't exactly know why that matters so much, but it does._

* * *

"So," Noire piped as soon as the afterglow faded from the group, "what's our plan?"

Everyone seemed to process this in their own ways. The twins exchanged searching looks, while Owain scratched the back of his neck, and Inigo twiddled his thumbs. Laurent pressed his fingers against the ache in his forehead. "You haven't even considered this, have you?"

"We... we honestly didn't think we'd get this far," Marc admitted. "We definitely didn't think that we'd have more help."

Cynthia sat back down, glum now. "Aw, man."

Laurent dropped his hand from his face and glanced at the clock. _Perhaps..._ "Then the solution is self-evident. We must formulate a plan before we proceed. In order to do that, we must all be on the same level of understanding, so to speak." He took out a notebook from his messenger bag and flipped it open to a clean page. "Now, tell us everything you found so far."

This of course, was a simple matter. Marc and Morgan switched back and forth as they talked, taking turns filling in details the other forgot. They started with the note on Robin's desk, how it implied that she must have known about a meeting, and then their investigation of the location she was found. Marc spoke of the old woman, Niime, Morgan followed with details of Aversa. It then went to the break-in, and, more importantly, what they were able to find so far in Aversa's black book. It mentioned of several moles in the police force, however those people were referred to by code names. While they talked, everyone listened carefully. Laurent cut in several times, asking for them to clarify as he wrote it all down.

With a weighted sigh, Laurent looked up. "And that's all you found out so far?"

"Yeah. We didn't have a lot of time to look at the pages," Morgan said, "there's this huge English project we got on Friday and it's due in a couple days."

"If it's school that you're worried about, then send the rest of us some pages and we can get through that book faster," Inigo pointed out.

Her hands clapped together, Cynthia asked, "So what's the plan, guys?"

"We shall hold off until we go through the book in its entirety," Laurent answered. "At this moment, we have no real leads and are lacking enough reliable information to find one."

"Okay, is there anyone who can't help with reading through the book?" Owain questioned. When no one said "no," Owain looked specifically to Noire. "Are you sure you can handle the extra work load?"

"Y-yes, I can." Noire clutched her hands together. Considering she looked embarrassed enough as is, it would have been mean to disagree with her at this point. There was some silent agreement not to argue against her decision.

And so the pages were divided up among the group, with everyone getting twelve pages. Notably, Owain took the pages with photographs and lists of code-named contacts, his reason being that he could check the police records and see if anyone matched. How exactly he intended to do that, Laurent had absolutely no idea. The other section of note was a long list of numerical code which Laurent decided he could take a crack at. They would check in on each other's progress next week.

"There's just one thing we need to remember," Morgan told them before Laurent could leave, "no matter what, nobody outside of The Justice Cabal can look at these papers. If anyone does, we could get in some serious trouble."

This was a given. Marc, having printed out each page prior to the meeting, doled out the sheets and Laurent was finally able to leave for work. He went down to the library where he almost immediately ran into Robin.

She was staring down at a book rather intently, a frown plastered to her face and her brow furrowed in concentration. Ordinarily, this sight would have been nothing new for Laurent, but it had been weeks since she came to the library after her hospital stay. Her being here should have been something familiar, but he still found himself quite surprised.

He didn't disturb her until his break, since it would be better not to get in trouble for chatting on the job. Lightly, he knocked on the table to alert her of his presence, earning a jump and a slight yelp. Her hands quickly slapped down to cover her page, as if he caught her reading something scandalous.

For whatever reason, Laurent couldn't help but give a quiet chuckle. "I apologize, I didn't mean to startle you."

She started to relax again, her hands easing half way off the page. "No, it's fine." She brushed a strand of hair back in place. "Did you need this table? I can move if you-"

"No, you need not move," he assured, "it's just been a while since I've seen you, I thought I might say hello."

Almost immediately, Robin looked uncomfortable again, her shoulders tensed and her gaze flittered away from him. "Oh... I... I knew you... before... Didn't I? I'm really sorry, this is just really..."

"There's nothing to be sorry about," Laurent said, "I am already aware that you have amnesia, so please do not feel embarrassed by it."

"Oh." Once more, she relaxed. She smiled sheepishly and returned her eyes to him. "Then can I have your name?"

"Ah, yes, of course. I'm Laurent, I attend the same school as your children," he said. How rude could he possibly be? Thankfully she didn't look particularly bothered by this. Perhaps it happened a lot.

She nodded and then appeared puzzled. "Strange, you look kind of old to be in high school."

 _Of course._ "Was it that obvious? Your observations are astute, I am indeed older than my peers. I was held back in the fifth grade because I became very ill."

"It must have been tough," Robin replied, "all your friends moving forward while you're stuck behind."

He felt something in his neck twist at her words. She was right, it was a very hard thing to accept. A lot of his elementary school friends moved on and forgot him by the time they moved on to sixth grade and he restarted the fifth. He had to go through the jungle that was middle school a stranger to all his classmates. Or at least he would have, had it not been for a few of his new classmates. "I adapted well enough at least."

"I'm not going to lie, I'm a little envious," she said, resting her chin in her hand. "I know it's not the same thing, but I feel so lost right now and it's so hard to relearn everything. I feel like if I can't remember everything, then I'm letting all you guys down."

"Your condition is no fault of your own," Laurent assured, "you have no need to feel any sort of guilt over it."

"I know." Robin glanced down at the table, then back up at him. Almost immediately she straightened in her seat. "I'm sorry. Did you have something you wanted to ask?"

Laurent nodded. "Actually, there are some things I would like to ask you about, if you don't mind."

"Sure, fire away." Robin waved to the chair for him to sit.

He settled down across from her and neatly folded his hands on the table. "You need not answer if it makes you uncomfortable, but did you forget everything?"

She tapped the side of her head. "Pretty much. I woke up and had no clue who or where I was."

"I see, so did anything start to come back?" He asked.

For a moment, she seemed to consider the question, or maybe even with her answers. "I um... I guess there might have been a couple things."

"Oh really? Any concrete memories?"

"Yeah... I guess you could call it that." She frowned and dropped her hand back down on the table. "I remember talking to some man. He was thin as a rail and tan and-" she picked up her hand and dragged it down her jaw "-some kind of a goatee going on. He wanted me to keep quiet about something, but I have no idea what."

If he were to venture a guess, then he wanted to think that there were details she purposefully left out. What she did say was somewhat telling at least. "Tan? Perhaps tan like Plegians?"

She nodded, looking a little distracted.

"You remember nothing else?" He pressed.

She didn't answer, her eyes remained fixed on some point well beyond his vision, and they slowly expanded as her shoulders became rigid. Her hands curled into fists.

"Robin?" Laurent carefully laid his hand over hers and nudged it, but even that small action made her jump out of her seat. On her feet now, she blinked, still horrified but more baffled now than anything. He decided to proceed carefully. "What's wrong?"

"I-I just..." She took her hand back and smacked the heel of her palm into her forehead a couple times, suddenly frustrated. "I'm sorry."

Laurent maintained a calm facade while on the inside he screamed to know what came over her. "Did something come back to you?"

"Uh-huh..." If it were possible, she managed to look more uncomfortable, practically ready to take off running at this point.

"Please, just sit down," he requested. Thankfully, she listened to him and did just that. Despite his best effort, he couldn't mask the interest in his tone as he asked, "So, what did you remember?"

She kept her arms crossed tight, her eyes low. "It wasn't much... I remember being grabbed and thrown to a wall. These two people were kicking me and I couldn't get away..."

His brows arched high up on his forehead. If he pressed her for more detail, then perhaps she might divulge some very useful information - a lead they could actually go on. But she looked so shaken from what she remembered that the mere concept of forcing her to dredge more up for the sake of his interest felt wrong on at least a dozen levels. "You needn't discuss this further if it makes you uncomfortable."

In response, Robin grit her teeth and shook her head. "No. No, this is just the sort of thing the police were asking me about. I need to remember their faces."

 _The police! If she goes to them, it might compromise our efforts. But how to proceed without alerting her?_ "I know it's none of my business, but who among the police have you been questioned by?"

"Who? Why do you ask?" There wasn't a shred of doubt that she was suspicious.

"It's well known that this city's police force is corrupt," he replied immediately. "I just want to know if the officer handling your case is among the more... just ones."

She looked down. "Umm, well actually a criminal detective has been seeing me a lot. His name is Lon'qu. I mean, an officer was always accompanying him too, but he didn't do nearly as much of the questioning. I'm pretty sure his name was Vaike. So? Do their names trip any alarms or what?"

 _Vaike. So that means Owain's father is on the case._ There was little they could do about Lon'qu though, since Kjelle wasn't involved in the Cabal. Even still, this was extremely convenient. "No, thankfully. Both of them are very honest men. They want to see justice served as much as you."

"And you're willing to swear on that?" Robin asked suddenly.

Laurent suppressed a wince. Nothing was ever certain, not even his own knowledge. He could easily be wrong about both of them and they could be working for the Grimleal as well, but there was not a shred of information he had to suggest such was the case. "Yes, I would be."

* * *

There was never a day when Severa got home from work and didn't feel like cutting her feet off with a hacksaw. "Now, why might that be?" some might ask. Well, to put simply, she was a waitress at a very popular, very classy restaurant and when you work at one of those, you don't get a moment's rest. When you don't get a moment's rest, you don't get to sit. And when you don't get to sit, your feet feel like bloody murder.

Come to think of it, there was never a day when she came home in a genuinely good mood either. Most days, she'd come home and crash somewhere, or she'd check to see if anyone's home and if she was alone then she'd kick something just to let out some pent up stress. Today happened to be the latter.

There was no need to call out to anyone, as the lights were off and her parents' car was gone. _Probably out for dinner._ She groaned and rubbed her now throbbing foot. _Who the hell goes out for dinner at 10 P.M. anyways? It's not like anywhere good is open. Did they eat at some freaking twenty-four hour fast food joint or something?_

Sure enough, when she went upstairs (having slammed her foot into the washing machine) she "discovered" a note on the refrigerator written in her mother's ever-perfect handwriting.

 _Gone out to dinner. There are leftovers from yesterday in the fridge.  
_ _xoxo Mom & Dad_

Severa crumpled the note and threw it in the garbage can. Like she needed a stupid reminder of where the stupid leftovers were. _"xoxo"_ _? Seriously? How fucking old-fashioned does she have to be?_

Finally, she put a close on her very bitter train of thought and retrieved the leftovers in question. It was a little less than half a serving of ravioli _(thanks so much, Father...)_ , but she could probably supplement what was left with whatever else she could find in the kitchen.

Maybe she could dip into her father's snack supply.

Heating up her dinner, she then went to the bathroom to change out of her uniform. Since nobody was home, she didn't worry about locating some pajamas first and walked to her room almost completely naked to put some on. By the time she was done with that, the microwave sounded and she returned to get the plate out. After a couple minutes, she settled for a good chunk of bread and sat down on the couch with her food.

"Maybe there's something good on." She frowned as she flicked on the TV and scoffed. "Idiot, of course there won't be..." As she flipped through the channels, she quickly came to the conclusion that, no, there wasn't anything of value airing right now. Not even the recorded shows offered much in way of entertainment. She shouldn't have even bothered, considering all her parents' recorded were cheesy romantic sitcoms and the cooking channel,. "Ugh... All that's on are bad commercials for male virility pills... Fuck this." She turned off the TV and angrily shoved a fork full of ravioli in her mouth.

Twenty minutes ticked by until she finally decided to just go to bed. Her parents wouldn't be home any time soon, that much she knew for a fact. They probably wouldn't be home until four in the morning or something because they decided they didn't want to do anything with their daughter in earshot and so rented a room at a motel. They've done it before and she wouldn't put it past them to do it again.

 _Of all the stupid people, why did my mother have to be her?_

* * *

Her parents weren't home when she left for school. That shouldn't have been a big shock, but it was annoying none the less. _They'd better not be late for work and get fired._

As the day progressed, Severa slowly moved past that and found herself turning her frustration on her science homework. Seriously, who the hell makes up these problems? They're virtually impossible unless she had the textbook right in front of her - which she didn't because there was no fucking way she was carrying that fifteen-pound-door-stopper with her. Why the hell do they even bother with the stupid books if they're too heavy to carry home? Several teachers even acknowledged that the books are heavy, even expressed concern about their students' backs. Do they listen when someone says that they didn't bring the book home though? No. Not once.

So, instead of actually answering the stupid problems like she probably should have been doing, she doodled until the page was a war zone of crudely drawn cartoons. Once that ceased to be amusing, she pulled out the phone on her lap and discreetly went on the internet to search for the answers for the homework. Sure, it was cheating, but who the fuck cares? It's not like the teacher was paying any attention. She was reading some crappy romance novel and half the class was idly chatting.

Perhaps she wasn't being all that stealthy though, because she could feel someone's stare boring into her neck. It was enough to, once again, get her attention off her homework. She looked back at the someone in question.

Noire's face lit up bright red and she quickly ducked down. Her hand curled close and a nervous bead of sweat forming on her temple.

Now half-turned in her chair, Severa leaned against the back of the seat and tried her best to look bored despite her agitation. "Can I help you?" Even she knew her tone sounded harsh.

In response, Noire seemed to shrink further down. "I-It's nothing... I'm sorry."

 _I was too harsh._ Severa frowned. "Really, what's bothering you?"

Thankfully, she stopped shrinking. In fact, Noire actually peaked up. "You just seemed in a bad mood. That's all."

Severa rolled her eyes. "Of course I'm in a bad mood. I'm always in a bad mood. You don't need to even bring it up." Part of her wanted to add that she didn't plan on ranting about it either, but at this rate, she probably would. Horrible a person as she was, at least she was self-aware.

Noire sunk further in her seat. "I'm sorry."

"Don't start apologizing either," Severa chided. "Me being in a bad mood hasn't got anything to do with you."

There was probably more that they could talk about, but, at this point, Noire seemed to resign herself to the fact that Severa was simply too sour for human interaction right now. That was fine, it let Severa get back to "doing" her homework. By the end of the study period, they walked down to the cafeteria. Severa chose the more expensive options (not like her parents ever noticed or cared, they paid for her lunches all the same) and found Noire tucked off to the side of the lunch room, a bag lunch still untouched and a pile of papers set before her.

Severa swung over. The closer she got though, the less the papers made sense. They definitely didn't look like homework, that was for sure. "Hey, what's that?"

Noire slapped her hands over the papers, alarmed. "I-it's nothing! Please, don't ask, okay?"

"It doesn't look like nothing," Severa observed with a frown. _Noire was being awfully suspicious for no real reason. What could she be hiding right now? Perhaps..._

* * *

Noire tugged on her hair as she stared down at the papers, a pen in hand, and a migraine working its way between her eyes. Since after dinner, she hid off in her room where her parents wouldn't disturb her. Since yesterday, she had been hard at work trying to take notes on the pages. At this point, she reading through a second time since none of it sank in the first time.

Whoever this Aversa was, she didn't seem to like writing in full Ylissean since at least two-thirds of the pages were in Plegian. Now, for Noire at least, this wasn't too huge of a problem. Her mother often spoke in Plegian when she wasn't working the shop, so she had a pretty good understanding of the dialect. The problems came when Noire encountered words she was unfamiliar with. She poured through her Plegian to Ylissean dictionary trying to find the word and that usually caused her to forget what she just read.

After thirty minutes of this frustration, Noire turned to a clean page in her notebook and started over. This time, she would translate the whole thing and work from there. It'd take much, much longer, but at least the information would actually stick in her brain this way.

Her cell phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen lighting up. _[New Message!]_

Noire sighed, a throbbing headache forming just between her eyes, and picked up her phone. She opened up the new text, which just so happened to be from Kjelle.

 _[Hey, u busy? Wanna hang out?]_

As much as she wanted to, she hated the idea of procrastinating. Her thumbs hit the keys slowly, almost lazily, as she typed up her reply. _[I got homework to finish. Sorry.]_

 _[w/ what? Did I miss something in class?]_

 _[You probably didn't. It's the]_ \- Noire paused in the middle of typing her message to look for a decent excuse. Kjelle was right, there hadn't been a lot of homework assigned this week. In fact, Noire didn't even really have anything due tomorrow that she didn't already finish. She deleted part of the message and left it at _[You probably didn't.]_

 _[Oh, OK then.]_

Somehow, Noire couldn't help but feel bad. _That reply sounds so sad._ Noire quickly fumbled up a reply. _[We could actually talk over the phone, if you want.]_

 _[k]_

A moment later, her soft ringtone chimed and Noire answered. "Hello?"

 _"Hey, again,"_ Kjelle replied. _"So really, what are you busy with?"_

Noire frowned and pulled the stack of pages closer along with her notebook to keep working. "Um... I-it's extra credit... for Mr. Ricken's class."

 _"What, his space science class?"_ Kjelle questioned. _"I don't remember him assigning extra credit."_

"W-well... uh..." Noire twiddled her pen as she stumbled for an excuse. "Because I'm... I'm failing the class and he wants to help me get my grade up."

There was several seconds of dead air while Noire waited for a response. Oh, gods, she didn't buy it. _She knows I'm lying. She knows, she knows, she knows! She-_

 _"Maybe you need to get out of the house and study harder. Are you bombing any other classes?"_

 _-she bought it?!_ Noire pulled away from the phone and gave a heavy sigh of relief. She returned to the receiver and answered, "No. Just this class."

There came a hum over the phone. _"You know, you've been acting jumpy since yesterday, more than usual. If something's up, just tell me. ... You do trust me, right?"_

"Of course I do!" Noire exclaimed. "Please, d-don't talk like that."

 _"...Yeah,"_ Kjelle grumbled, _"My mom's calling me. I got to go."_

Before Noire could even get out a goodbye, she was met with the sound of a click. A chill seeped down her spine. She hurt her...

* * *

 _Thanks for reading, and sorry this took me a bit. A lot of stuff was coming up._

 _Also I swear I'm not using loaded dice or anything with Robin's memory rolls. She, of course, rolled another 20 and then a 3 (d4) and a 4 (d6) for detail and plot relevance. She's just been getting stupid lucky with this stuff. It's like if I'm the DM and all of these guys are the players, I'm just secretly watching and waiting for everyones' luck to turn._

 _No "Name that Bad Decision" this time around. They didn't mess up enough to justify another round yet._

 _Like I said, thanks and I'll see you next chapter._


	12. Chapter 12: Something's up

_For those of you who didn't catch on to who Cordelia's husband is, we're jumping straight into that profile._

 _Pairing Profiles: Cordelia x Stahl_

 _~Severa's attitude stems from being compared to her mother, and quite possibly her father. I wanted to have that picturesque couple that'd build massive expectations on their daughter.  
~Stahl's a very relaxed guy. He just seems to let things happen without too much of a care. This is prime parenting for a spoiled brat to develop.  
~Have you gone and tried to super breed the children? Stahl produces a beast Severa.  
~The other potential suitors I considered for Cordelia were Gaius and Gregor. However, all I ever hear about for Gaius/Cordelia is "OMG SHE MADE HIM A SCARF!" and Gregor was immediately vetoed because big, burly not-Russians can't have the much lusted over redhead (or anyone according to a few people I asked). There was also Ricken, but I refused to ship him from the start._

* * *

"Damn thing." Brady's smacked the steering wheel of his crumby van. For the last half of his drive home, it was making some awkward chunking noise. He'd have to cough up some ludicrous fee to get whatever fixed again. No doubt, this old shit-box was on its last legs; it's a wonder to anyone why his family even kept it for so long. Brady had an idea as to why: his dad practically lived in this vehicle while at college; then his parents drove cross-country in it during their honeymoon; a few years later, Brady was popped out on the back seat on the way to the hospital. His folks just couldn't bare to part with the van and the memories made in its dated interior, despite the financial drawbacks.

He could tell his parents that something was wrong with the car again. No big deal, right? Something's wrong with the car almost every other month. With this plan in mind, he grabbed his apron off the passenger's seat and walked up to the front door. He entered the house, though whatever conversation his parents were having turned silent when he shut the door. Brady stood still for a moment, just to see if they'd start talking again. Apprehension tugged at his back as he hung up his jacket and kicked off his shoes to leave by the door. _Somethin's up..._

In the living room, there was a little alcove lined in bookshelves and a wood bench with glossy, amber cushions. Mariabelle sat on the bench, back straight and ankles neatly crossed, watching him like a raptor as he came in. Libra, meanwhile, was on the couch with a contemplative look as he lightly drummed his fingers on his lap. Not a singular hint as to what this was all about.

 _Oo-kay...? Did they just settle down from an argument?_ Brady adjusted his hold on his backpack and made to leave for his bedroom.

"Sit down, Brady," Mariabelle requested. There was an edge to her words.

Brady felt his gut sink low as he did as asked. _What'd I do now? My grades are fine and I ain't done anything wrong._ "What's this about?" He dared to ask.

"It has come to our attention that you haven't been telling us something," Mariabelle answered, each word a steady mallet smacking at his nerves.

"You see, Son, there's..." Libra almost seemed to wince at what he was trying to say. His fingers seized all together. "Ah, well... a point in everyone's life where they decide what is right for them. Sometimes, you think it's one when it's been the other."

Brady shifted, neither of them were making any sense. He briefly considered retreating to his bedroom. "Couldya just come out and say it? I got no clue what you're talkin' about."

"We know about your boyfriend, Brady," Mariabelle stated.

Before Brady could really come up with a response (not that he could), Libra added, "Yes, we heard about it from Virion while at lunch today. He, um... he seemed rather accepting of it. Actually."

"Y-ya got it all wrong," Brady stammered. "Inigo and I aren't dating or-"

"It's quite alright, dear, you don't need to explain the terms of your relationship," Mariabelle interrupted. "Even if you two are merely seeing each other, we just want you to know that we do not intend to condemn you for your preferences."

 _That's not..._ Brady clenched his teeth. "It ain't like that at all! There's nothin' going on there."

"You really don't need to lie about it," Libra said. "Apparently many students saw the two of you kissing at school. If you meant to keep this relationship a secret then you should have picked a more private place."

"Ah, Gods. Ya gotta be kiddin' me." Brady pushed back at his hair, unable to sit still at this point. Many people now? Did everyone just latch onto this stupid rumor and perpetuate it? It wasn't just one stinking person anymore, but a whole bunch. How many more would join in? "Please, tell me you're jokin'. This can't really be happenin'."

"I don't see why you're upset," Libra remarked. "Shouldn't you be relieved that we are trying to accept and understand you?"

"Well, that's the thing, you're not!" Brady stood up. He was shaking, though he wasn't sure if he felt sick or just angry. "They're lyin', okay! Inigo and I ain't anything. Now if you'll excuse me..." He turned and made for the front door, desperate to leave so he could collect himself.

Mariabelle got up and went after him. "And where do you think you're going?"

"Out. There a problem?" Brady came close to scowling at his mother as he unlocked the door.

"It's dark outside, you aren't going anywhere at this time."

"I'll be fine," he shot back.

"Brady. Don't you dare..."

She glared him down. It was a challenge and Brady was fully prepared to meet it. He opened the door. "Bye, Ma." Shutting the door behind him, he went outside and charged over the lawn and down the street. He just couldn't put up with this kind of crap right now.

He ran until he was tired and wheezing, the cool air ripped at his throat and stung his cheeks. Somehow, he managed to go all the way to the park. Though it seemed like the only thing to be found here was buzzing streetlights and the sound of barking dogs in the distance. He dragged himself onto a bench and lay his head back to stare at the black sky. Light pollution completely choked out all the stars, leaving only a faint orange haze on the horizon line. The moon wasn't visible, whether it be from an overcast or not, he couldn't tell.

"If I prayed for this to blow over, would Naga even hear me?" Brady asked aloud. His eyes started to burn and he lifted his head up to rub the tears away. "Dammit... Stupid..."

Footsteps...

He turned his head to the source of the sound and found Severa before him. The streetlight accented her rust jacket and cast an orange sheen in her dark hair. It was cold enough to see her breath. As Brady took this in, a bit of rage stirred in him. She started all this. She spread that damn rumor. He wished he could strike at her for all the bullshit she put him through this last week, shout at her until she got it through her head what sort of frustration she caused him.

Yet he couldn't find the words to.

"You're in my spot." She suddenly said, her tone oozed with bitterness.

"Wha?" He glanced down at the bench, confused. Surely enough though, there were her parents' names on a plaque on the back. It was some sort of commemoration for them being such good Samaritans, going beyond their civil duties and all of that malarkey. He furrowed his brows at this and got up. "'Kay, sorry. Guess I'll find somewheres else to sit." Not like he wanted to be around her anyways.

Severa sighed. "Cry here if you want, it's not like I care." She crossed her arms. "What are you doing out here anyways?"

"Ya don't give two shits that I'm cryin' but you care that I'm out and about?" Brady scoffed.

"Considering the manager asks me whenever you're not doing well, yeah, I do." She retorted.

Of course the manager would. Calill didn't take any sort of nonsense where her staff was concerned. Brady pouted and turned away. "My folks heard about your stinkin' rumor and think I'm gay."

"Oh." There was something oddly apologetic in that one word. Severa looked down, her lip twitched. "Listen, I'm sorry. I just wanted to get back at Inigo for some shit he said before and I let it get out of hand."

Brady stared, dumbfounded. _She actually apologized?_ He didn't even need to guilt one out of her or anything. "Wow, that's real fucking noble of you."

"Don't get the wrong idea," she remarked, her snappishness having returned. "I just don't want to have this come up at work or something."

What else was he even expecting? He really wanted to tell her to beat it, reestablish some privacy so he could mope in peace. What came out instead was, "So why're you here?"

Severa gave an impassionate shrug. "I wanted to go out."

"All by yourself?" He wondered.

"Yeah?"

"Aren't ya, you know, a girl?" As soon as this came out, Brady jumped to amend it. "There're some serious scumbags out about now, don't that scare you at all?"

Severa's lip curled down. "What? Just because I'm a girl I should be locked up at night? To hell with that."

"I hope ya got some pepper spray or had some self-defense classes," Brady remarked, "it's dangerous."

"Well then you can escort me if you're so worried," Severa said bitingly. "Obviously a tall, chauvinistic thug like yourself can protect me from the dangers of the night."

He was 99% sure that she was being sarcastic. She'd never seriously suggest that he walk her home, and he was confident in that fact. "Hey, I ain't being chauvi-" Severa walked away before he even finished his sentence. He followed after her, and they both stopped by the street. Whatever caught her attention, he wasn't seeing it. "What're ya gawking at?"

She pointed at the library across the street, where a small figure lugged a large backpack.

Brady narrowed his eyes and caught sight of the pale hair that poked out from beneath their dark purple hood. "Ain't that... one of those twins?"

"Yeah, one of them," Severa confirmed.

 _Where's the other?_ "I don't think I ever seen them apart."

"Same," Severa agreed. She frowned and grabbed his sleeve. "Let's follow him."

"The hell should we do that for?" Brady questioned, pulling his arm back. "Let the kid be."

Severa scoffed. "Marc and Morgan are in that weirdo club, right?"

"Yeah, I think so." He couldn't exactly figure out what she was getting at, and a nagging feeling in him told him he probably would be better off not knowing. "And?"

"Everyone who's in that club has been acting weird," Severa explained, "Owain's been jumpier than usual, Inigo hasn't been making moves on girls, and I saw Noire working on something strange. Come on, you had to of noticed, right?"

Now that she brought it up, Brady couldn't deny the shift in behavior in their classmates. Especially Owain and Inigo. Just the other day, Owain got called down to the office and he actually looked terrified, where he normally would have shrugged and went on his way. "Okay, you're point?"

"They're up to something, and I want to know." Severa said. "So maybe we can get a hint if we follow the freshman."

Suddenly, another person rushed out of the library, a couple books in hand. Brady quickly recognized him to be Laurent. The senior caught up to the underclassman and presented the books. The younger accepted them and they exchanged a few words before Laurent turned and went back in the library. Books in hand, the freshman (who Brady now guessed was Marc, since the hair looked just a tad too short to be Morgan's) walked on down the street.

Severa followed after him, keeping her distance and staying on the opposite side of the street. With little else he could think to do, Brady went after her. However, as he did, he tripped over a trashcan. The resounding crash punctuated the other city sounds. "Oh sweet mother a' fucking...!" The trashcan rolled and he barely stopped it before it could go into the street. Paper, cans, cups, just about anything you could think of, was strewn all over the sidewalk. The first thing Brady could think to do was clean up the mess he made.

"Damn it, Brady! Don't you know what stealth means?!" Severa snapped.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Marc looking back at him, books clutched to his chest. He took two slow steps back and then bolted away. A minute later, he completely vanished from sight.

Severa growled and kicked a soda can into a lamp post in frustration. "Oh great, look what you've done! You scared him off!"

"I think that was more you," Brady remarked as he picked up the can and threw it away. Once he grabbed the rest of the trash, he stood up and sighed. "Sorry, alright? I fucked up."

"You're such a clumsy idiot," she grumbled, still red with anger. It was nothing compared to Brady's mom, but it was still impressive, to say the least.

Brady chewed at the inside of his cheek a moment. "How 'bout I walk ya home. It's getting late."

After several seconds, she mumbled, "Fine." She then led the way.

They walked in awkward silence for a while. Eventually, Brady grew tired of the tension and attempted to start up a conversation.

"So why were ya out anyways?"

"I like the fresh air."

"We're in a city, fresh air ain't a thing."

"Fine, I like the car exhaust and sewer fumes."

"You're lyin'."

"What was your first clue?" Severa then shot back, "Why didn't you just tell your parents you aren't gay?"

Brady groaned in frustration. "I tried telling 'em it was a rumor, they didn't listen." Now that he was considering it, they were probably torn up about it. Being such the religious family they were, and Maribelle being a judge with such a big reputation, there was a lot to lose. A gay son would attract all sorts of negative attention, as stupid and bigoted as it was. Hell, Brady knew his father leaned on the homophobic side. Somehow though, they decided to accept the rumor for truth and chose him over their image. It should've been sweet, if not for the fact that it was all one big, stupid lie. "Maybe they just convinced themselves that I'd deny it."

Behind them, a bit closer than Brady felt comfortable with, a dog started barking. He glanced back, ready to run if need be, and saw a big black dog lunging at him, only stopped as it was pulled back on its leash. Behind the dog, a disgruntled Gerome snapped, "Down, Minerva!" Almost immediately after he said this, the dog bounded back to him. He patted her head.

"Gerome?" Severa planted her hands on her hips and glared, "What are you doing here?"

Her fury didn't faze him, at least, as far as Brady could tell. He was wearing his sunglasses, for whatever reason. "I'm walking Minerva."

"Why were you following us though?" She questioned, her words sharp as a knife.

"I wasn't following," Gerome corrected, "I usually go this way. Better question, why are you two here?"

She clenched her hands until her knuckles were white. "None of your business."

Gerome frowned slightly. "You were following someone."

"So you _were_ stalking!" She shot back.

"No, I wasn't. I heard you yelling at Brady a block away." Gerome remained where he was, ice cold.

Brady tried to put himself between the two and settle the argument before it could get anywhere serious. "Look, it doesn't really matter, does it? Let's just calm down." Much to Brady's relief, Severa did step back and crossed her arms. It was as close to resignation as he'd get. Gerome walked past them, Minerva at his side, and soon rounded the corner and out of their sight. Brady turned back to Severa. "We still gotta getcha home. Come on."

As they continued past the park, Severa spoke up. "Something's going on with that club."

"This again?" Brady groaned.

She grit her teeth. "I'm serious! Don't you believe me?"

"I never said I didn't," he replied. "I just don't know if it's worth our time."

"Then we'll figure out what's up," Severa suggested. "I'm pretty sure we can if we work together."

 _Sheesh, when did she become such a team player._ "I'm sorry, I can't help wonderin' why you'd want me after I proved how big of a klutz I am."

She frowned. "Because you actually believe me. Gods, is it this hard to figure out?"

"What? No one else does?" Brady wondered.

She shook her head. "You're the only person I brought it up with, and since you unconditionally believe me, I'm going to keep it that way. So you're working with me."

"Ain't I gotta say in this?" He questioned.

"Say?" Severa echoed with a devious smirk.

* * *

Slamming the door might not have been necessary, but Marc really couldn't help that much when his legs had the consistency of a pudding cup and when his breathing could only come out in labored gasps. His hair was matted down in sweat and his lungs burned like fire. With trembling fingers, he turned the lock and planted his head against the wood as he continued to struggle for air. At this point, his other hand lost its grip on the two books he had been clutching, and they fell to the floor with a flutter.

"Hmmm? Is that Marc I hear?" Henry asked from another room. Marc couldn't conjure up a response. He wished he could, but his couldn't form the words between his panting. A hand settled on his shoulder, and his father's voice is just behind him now. "You okay? Did something happen on your way home?"

Marc turned and leaned against the door. He produced a weak smile as he murmured, "No... no, I'm... I'm fine... It got dark." He swallowed heavily. "So I ran home. S-sorry to worry you."

Henry laid his hand on Marc's head. "You're feeling kinda warm." He gently guided the boy away from the door, their pace slow. "Come on, you're lying down." The went to the living room and Henry sat Marc down on the couch.

"I'm- I'm fine, Dad. Really. Just tired." Marc assured. He would have stood up just to prove that, but the moment he sat down his legs went from pudding to lead and his head was spinning.

With a cheery grin, Henry laughed and patted Marc's head. "That's why you should lie down, silly. You missed dinner, by the way. I'll go get it for you." Before Marc could tell him otherwise, Henry already left the room.

A head poked from around the doorway and in came Morgan. "You took a while getting home."

Marc sunk back into the cushions and groaned. "I had a hard time trying to find the books I was looking for... Could you get them? I dropped them by the door."

Morgan nodded and left to retrieve the books in question. They had run into a problem with going through the pages they had: Aversa wrote half of it in Plegian. They tried to use online translators to figure it out, but half of the time their results were garbled. So Marc decided to pick up a Ylissean-Plegian dictionary, and a Plegian grammar book from the library. They were apparently much harder to find than they should have been because they were misplaced and tucked in some odd corner of the building; Laurent helped him search high and low for them, and were eventually found in the children's fiction section for some unknown reason. At that point, the library was near closing; Marc was in such a hurry to leave that he almost forgot the books. Thankfully, Laurent chased him down and gave them to him.

When his sister returned, she dropped the books by his side. "So, why'd you run home?"

"I thought a couple people were trying to follow me," he explained quietly. "One of them tripped on a trashcan though and I was able to run away while they were distracted." He heard one of them shout the name Brady when one of them tripped. He was pretty sure that was a guy from school, but he was so panicked at the time that he didn't get a really good look at his face. The guy had big hair though.

At this point, Henry returned with a plate of spaghetti and a piece of garlic bread. "Eat up! I have to help your mom with something, so just scream if you need me."

"Thanks," Marc said as he was handed the plate. After his dad left, he lazily twirled his fork around in the pasta. "How were things on your end?"

"Well, Mom and Dad were a bit surprised that we didn't go to the library together," Morgan replied, "Dad also mentioned that we need to use the buddy system if we're going to be out late and to give them a call so that they know from now on."

Marc hummed tiredly around his dinner. "Could've been worse."

Morgan nodded and picked up the book. "I think I'll go get some work done. Good night."

"Night," Marc returned.

After a very quiet dinner, Marc took a shower to rinse off the sweat and went straight to bed. He didn't care if his hair was still wet or how it'd stick up in the morning, he was too exhausted to care. Before he even knew it, he slipped into a dreamless sleep...

Or at least he did for a little while. He was abruptly woken up in the middle of the night by a nudge to his arm and his sister's quiet whispering, "Marc? Marc, are you awake?"

"Nng... what?" He groaned, rubbing his eyes. Morgan stood by his bedside, her pillow clutched to her chest and tears in her eyes. "What's wrong?"

"I had a nightmare," she whispered. Her face turned down to her feet while she fretted with the lilac pillow cover. "Can I sleep with you?"

Marc sighed and rolled onto his back so he could flip the covers up. "Come on," he said.

Without a moment of hesitation, Morgan crawled onto the bed and curled up on the other side. "Thanks."

Marc turned on his side to face her. Her tears rolled sideways, over her nose and dripped onto her pillow. He reached over and lightly rubbed some of the tracks away with his thumb. "What was your nightmare about?"

She sniffled and wiped the rest of the tears away with her pajama sleeve. "You died and I had to bury you. I woke up and got scared."

He smiled softly and took hold her hand. "You won't this time."

Morgan stared at him and smiled back, her hand squeezed his. He couldn't stop her from having bad dreams, but at least he could be here to comfort her if she woke up scared again.

* * *

 _Her hot breath tickled the shell of her ear as she purred, "See what you do? You're lucky I don't kill you too."_

 _Her knees wouldn't stop shaking as she stared at the pair of crumpled bodies on the floor. The first a woman, her white hair blown out of its bun by the bullet, and her red eyes wide. Blood pooled around her, soaking into her shirt. Chrom... he'd live. Or at least she hoped so, the forming bruise on the side of his head didn't look promising. Concussions were no laughing matter, certainly not when they rendered a man unconscious._

 _"You bitch..." She growled. "First Emm and now this?"_

 _"Hey, be happy the old man wants you alive," she said behind her. "I'd kill him too, but it's a big enough mess with one governor gone." Her hand snaked around her middle. "Now, be a good girl and keep your mouth shut."_

Robin snapped her eyes open, only to find the dark ceiling. Another memory?

She pressed her hands to her face and sighed heavily. Just what the hell was her head trying to tell her?

* * *

 _Another chapter, another Robin memory. Not even kidding, her luck on these dice rolls is ridiculous. I wanna get this many 20s at my D &D club!  
Actually, I had two versions of this flashback written out. The first one had a certain man threatening Robin in the place of the woman. However, given the characters involved, it made more sense to swap him for a certain other Plegian. I don't even know why I'm being so secretive about who the woman is, considering you guys can probably figure this one out with a little bit of thought. Really, she's only unnamed (for now) because of Robin's amnesia._

 _As some of you may notice, I changed the summary. I've been told that the old one didn't fit the story as well as it used to. Apparently defining high school doesn't clue anyone in that gangs and crime fighting are major plot points. So, new summary. Hope you all don't mind! If you want to read the old one, it's still in the first chapter (too lazy to replace it)._

 _Thank you for all your comments so far, and sorry this one took a bit._


	13. A Brief Author's Note and a Preview

_A brief author's note_

 _I'm very sorry I've been inactive on Fanfiction over the past few months. A lot has been going on in my life and this fic was pushed to the back of my mind. What with work, joining a Fire Emblem RP community, my editor having college work, and me actually getting into a relationship, I neglected this site entirely. That said, I don't intend to discontinue the story here and will have a new chapter out soon._

 _What I did have for the next chapter was very raw and, personally, I didn't like how it was going so I need to do a lot of playing around with it first to make sure that this long wait I put all you through will be worth it._

 _Again, I apologize._

 _Thank you for reading along, and I'll have another chapter ready for you soon!_

 _Trigram_

* * *

 ** _And now for a preview of what's to come!_**

* * *

 _Next time, on Pride, Unity, and Love..._

"Just shut the hell up," Kjelle growled. "I know you and Brady are stalking Noire. What are you trying to do?"

One of Severa's carefully tweezed brows twitched downwards. "Where'd this come from?"

"Just answer the damn question!" Kjelle demanded, the hand by Severa's head curling in a fist.

"Sheesh, aren't you sweet," Severa scoffed. "If you _must_ know though, yes, we are watching Noire. As for why, there's just something up with that club."

Kjelle grit her teeth. "Something up? They're just a bunch of nerds playing a stupid game. If that's really your reason then it's a dumb one."

"No, it's not," Severa replied with an edge to her tone, "they're acting weird. Come on, you've seen it too, I'm sure. Noire's been much more reclusive lately."

Kjelle glared up at Severa. "If you try and hurt her, there's going to be hell to pay."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Now alone with the two officers, Robin lowered her head a little. In all the years Lon'qu knew her, there was never a day where she wasn't brimming with confidence. It was through her persistence that he started to get over himself. And yet here she was, a shell of her former self, clinging to whatever shreds of her life she could grasp.

Lon'qu sighed. "So let's begin."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Suddenly a pair of hands clasped his shoulders from behind.

Brady gave a very frightened yelp, his confidence fleeing in a puff of smoke. He threw his hands up. "I ain't done nothing!"

Upon hearing him, Severa turned around. Almost immediately, her expression took on several more shades of annoyed as she laid a hand on her hip. "Kjelle, just what are you doing?"

"I should be asking you that," was the sophomore's response. "I thought I told you to stay away from Noire."


	14. Chapter 13: The Story Continues

_And now we reach the final pairing in this story. Despite me mentioning this one last, I actually thought of it before at least half of these other pairings... Yeah... There's not a lot to say about it._

 _Pairing Profiles: Cherche x Frederick_

 _~The alternate name for this pairing is Loyal Bodyguard x Royal Bodyguard. Their support involves them discussing what it means to be a knight. These two are so freaking similar, it's kinda silly.  
~Despite Gerome being quiet, he's a dramatic guy once he opens his mouth. Seriously, half the shit he says almost at Owain-level drama ("Accept fate!") and yet he's being serious. Who else do we know is over-dramatic and dead serious? Frederick.  
~Gerome seems to be leaning in on the "Lucina's bodyguard" role at times (when Severa isn't trying to be in Future's Past). It's probably best seen in their A Support where Lucina says that she'll look for him on the battlefield and his response is that he'll be by her side as always. The reason behind it, with Frederick as his father, is probably because they've spent a lot of time together as kids and he started to develop the protector mentality from watching his parents. It's almost like you took the Loyal and Royal and fused them together. Lucina's no longer a princess (her kingdom of her time is dead), and yet she still walks with a regal bearing and is still the final shred of the royal family left. Gerome has every reason to protect her.  
~To actually get Gerome's aloof personality, I had to think of a way for neither of his parents to have a strong presence in his later childhood. We know how Cherche is with Virion, gotta keep him out of trouble, but the father varies. Frederick, though, is absurdly devoted to Chrom. If his parents are frequently out keeping an eye on Virion and Chrom, it shouldn't come as much of a surprise that Gerome's cold to them._

 _And now we can pat ourselves on the backs because we've gotten through all these profiles. YAY!_

* * *

Kjelle never really understood why some of her classmates struggled to get up in the morning. It was quite simple; just get up, walk around, and remember to eat a good breakfast so you aren't sitting through your morning classes tormented by the grumbling of your stomach. She could do it, so why was it so hard for everyone else?

Her curiosity on the matter was piqued when she came to school Monday morning and found Severa slumped over her desk, a coffee and half finished bagel by her head. _Well, at least she was halfway there on the breakfast part._ After several seconds of deliberation, Kjelle approached and nudged Severa's shoulder. The junior shot up straight in her seat, almost knocking her coffee over as she slapped her hands down on the desk. "What?!" Her voice carried into the halls and a couple students paused to stare into the classroom before hastily moving on.

Kjelle, however, remained unfazed. "Long weekend?"

Severa rubbed her face in her hands with a groan. "Fourteen hours... fourteen goddamn hours of waiting tables... I'm exhausted."

"Was it really that bad?" Kjelle asked, sitting on a nearby desk.

"Every single impatient bastard from here to Plegia decided to come in, and I was the only one serving," she answered. "Yes, it was bad. I didn't get any sleep because I had to do homework when I got home. I don't want to be here... Maybe I should just go the nurse and pretend to be sick or something."

"Maybe you should, you look horrible." Or at least she looked horrible by Severa standards. It was too obvious that she caked her makeup on this morning to hide the dark rings under her eyes. Despite her effort, they still showed. There was a stubborn strand of hair that curled up despite the clear struggle to plaster it down with the rest of her hair. She might have just been better off skipping her beauty routine that day and calling as little attention to it as possible.

Severa stood up, her bag in hand, and started for the door. "Watch my coffee."

"Are you going to the nurse?" Kjelle asked.

She grumbled something that Kjelle didn't catch and then replied, "No, I'm going to try fixing this disaster on my face before class starts." With that said, she left the room.

 _Who in their right mind would want her coffee anyways? She always puts too much sugar and vanilla in it._ Kjelle sighed and tapped her knee while she waited. It wasn't like she was busy or anything, but she hated being employed as the coffee watchdog.

On Severa's desk came an electric chime as the junior's cell phone got a new message. Severa mindlessly left her phone there. The screen was still on, leaving her messages out in the open for anyone to read.

"That idiot! Might as well shut it off for her," Kjelle said aloud and reached for the phone. As she leaned in, she saw the string of texts, which turned out to be with Brady.

 _[Spotted Noire looking at those papers again.]_

Kjelle paused and stared at the text. Severa was texting about Noire? But why? Severa always acted like she cared about the younger girl, but why would she be talking about her behind her back like this? This shouldn't have been Kjelle's business; she had no right to look through anyone's messages. Her concern for Noire's safety got the better of her and she scrolled through the texts.

 _[ Severa: People 2 watch for: Noire, Owain, the twins, and Cynthia. I think there r others, but not sure yet.]_

 _[ Brady: Laurent is in the club too. and Inigo. Mr. Ricks is the club adviser.]_

 _[ Severa: Club Weirdos don't have a meeting till Weds. We could wait til then and see what they do at club.]_

 _[ Brady: We could also just join the club, ya know. We don't work until 6 on Weds]_

 _[ Severa: Ew. I'd rather not. You do it.]_

 _[ Brady: Update: Owain and Inigo don't do anything suspicious. They hardly talk to each other.]_

 _[ Severa: Laurent isn't much good either.]_

 _[ Brady: Tried asking Cynthia, thought she might blurt something out. No sell. She ran off]_

 _[ Brady: We should avoid the twins. Marc probably knows we're following.]_

 _[ Severa: Target=Noire]_

 _[ Severa: I see her looking at a stack of papers a lot. Not any assignment I ever seen.]_

 _[ Brady: Didn't notice before. I'm watching now, and I see it. not sure what they are]_

 _[ Brady: Got a better look. Either photos or scans of something.]_

 _[ Brady: Spotted Noire looking at those papers again.]_

Kjelle slammed the phone back down, trembling in rage. _So you are stalking Noire, is that it? All because of her club? Just what the hell are you hoping to figure out? Some juicy tidbit to hurt Noire?_ Kjelle clenched her fists and glared at the door. If Severa was planning anything half as bad as what she did to Inigo, there would be hell to pay...

When Severa returned to the classroom, Kjelle grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her out into the hallway. The dazed junior asked what was going on and offhandedly worried about her coffee. In a couple minutes, they arrived at the girl's locker room, which was empty for the time being. Kjelle pushed her into one of the shower stalls and up against the wall. She wasn't being rough enough to actually hurt her, just enough to drill it home that she was serious. After she threw the curtain shut, she slapped her hand on the wall by Severa's head and placed her other hand on the shower handle.

Severa didn't move away. She knew struggling with Kjelle would have been pointless seeing as she was a top-notch lacrosse player and mixed martial artist. Instead, Severa dryly asked, "So what's this about? Wanted some alone time with me?"

"Just shut the hell up," Kjelle growled. "I know you and Brady are stalking Noire. What are you trying to do?"

One of Severa's carefully tweezed brows twitched downwards. "Where'd this come from?"

"Just answer the damn question!" Kjelle demanded, the hand by Severa's head curling in a fist.

"Sheesh, aren't you sweet," Severa scoffed. "If you _must_ know though, yes, we are watching Noire. As for why... well... there's just something up with that club!"

Kjelle grit her teeth. "Something up? They're just a bunch of nerds playing a stupid game! If that's really your reason, then it's a dumb one!"

"No, it's not," Severa replied with an edge to her tone, "they're acting weird! Come on, you've seen it too, I'm sure. Noire's been much more reclusive lately."

Reclusive. Oh yeah, Kjelle definitely noticed. It even went so far as Noire canceling plans they had on Saturday - more specifically, plans for Noire's birthday - without much explanation as to why. Kjelle initially thought that it was Tharja hexing out another harsh punishment, but she saw no sign of such when she came to the store the next day. Tharja seemed normal or as close to it as that woman could get. Gregor and Noire were both fine; no odd curses on either of them whatsoever. There was no reason Kjelle could think of to explain Noire's sudden cancellation.

 _But still..._ Kjelle glared up at Severa. "If you try and hurt her, there's going to be hell to pay." She then backed away and stormed out of the locker room. She'd need to keep an eye on those juniors, just to make sure that Noire would be okay. Kjelle'd be damned if she let her friend get bullied again.

* * *

"Owain?" The voice pulled him from his homework and he looked up at Marc, who nervously thumbed at his lunch tray. "Mind if I sit here?"

Did he even need to ask? "Sure, go ahead." He put down his pencil down as Marc set his tray next to him. Once the freshman was settled, Owain wondered, "Where's Morgan?"

"She's looking for Laurent," Marc answered and turned his gaze down to his lunch, though it wasn't the food that was on his mind. When he next spoke, his voice was so quiet that it was hard for Owain to hear over the loud chatter of the cafeteria. "I think someone's onto us."

Owain's back stiffened. He replied in a rushed whisper, "What? Are you sure?"

Marc nodded. "I was picking up books the other day and a couple people tried to follow me. I think they're from our school."

"Do you know who?"

"Um... One of them was a guy with big hair and the girl he was with called him Brady, but that's all I know." Marc told him. Owain's sudden deep frown and clenched hand caused Marc to nervously fret with the hem of his sweatshirt. "Do you know him?"

"Yeah, I do." Owain brought his hand up to cover his mouth. "Spread the word to the others as discreetly as you can. And don't confront Brady. If he's onto us, then he might give up watching from a distance and confront us on his own. Just don't act suspicious."

Marc picked up his fork and picked at his lunch. "By the way, I think I got a clue."

Owain arched his brows, his interest piqued. "Do you now?"

"Morgan and I were translating the pages on the bus when we found a name: Garrick. He's one of the debt collectors in this sector of the city." Marc explained. "Maybe he knows something about the higher ups."

"Garrick," Owain repeated, tapping his jaw. "My dad might have files on him. I'll check when I get home."

Marc stared at him wide eyed. "Your dad's files...? W-wait, isn't that stuff in the police database or something? That's illeg-" he paused and sunk. "Oh... right. Guess I can't really say that at this point."

"No, my little friend, no you can't," Owain replied. "Once we got a little more to work with, we can all decide on a course of action."

"Right," Marc agreed and got straight to eating his lunch.

Owain stared down at the sheet of homework in front of him, even though he wasn't reading a single problem at this point. He already had his guesses about what that woman, Aversa, had to do with the Grimleal. If she had this kind of information, she might be the treasurer or even the secretary. Then again, that would place her close to the higher ups of the gang, and, considering she was the watchful assistant to Gangrel, he saw little opportunity for her to actually fill a role that important. She could always be an associate, she definitely was in a good position to be one.

At this point, he put his train of thought on hold. This line of guesswork would only take him so far before he hit a dead end, so it would be better to wait until he got home to worry about it.

... Now if only his homework was this interesting.

* * *

Police Commissioner Campari was difficult to work under. He had a habit of shuffling around cases, dropping them, cutting funds for one or another, and throwing away evidence he deemed "worthless" or "irrelevant". So when Detective Lon'qu and Officer Vaike were called into his office, they had sinking feelings where this would be going.

"Gentlemen, has there been any significant progress with the Robin Case?" was the question he posed for them not even a minute after they entered his office.

"It's been slow going," Vaike answered, shooting his partner a worried look.

Campari rested his hands on his desk. "So you mean to tell me there has been none?"

Though the officer didn't look away or move, a gloom seemed to fall over him. "Yes, sir."

"That settles it then. Detective Lon'qu, Officer Vaike, I'm reassigning you both to another case."

Vaike straightened, his hands slowly curled into fists. "But sir, you can't-!"

"Sir," Lon'qu was quick to cut Vaike off, "We haven't had this case long, and with a lack of witnesses or telling evidence from the scene, it's going to take a little longer. We just need time."

"And what about the victim? She hasn't told you anything?" Campari scowled at the two and leaned in closer.

"She has amnesia, you know this," Vaike responded quickly. "Please, this isn't fair. We haven't had this case for long and you're gonna pull the plug on it?"

Lon'qu took a small breath, "You need to reconsider, sir. This case might be a huge breakthrough with several other ones."

Campari stood up from his desk, his massive frame towered over the two. "We have little time to spend with a petty mugger."

"It might not just be one man!" Vaike's voice started to raise. "Come on! Can't you see that there's a party that would have a pretty good motive behind all this? Robin was just about ready to tell us what we needed to know about the Grimleal when this happened. They could have set this all up to keep her from talking."

"That's just speculation," Campari replied flatly.

 _At this rate, he'll terminate this case for sure._ Lon'qu tried to find something to say, anything, to change the Commissioner's mind. "It's also speculation that the culprit could be a simple mugger. We won't know unless you give us the chance to find out."

Campari could have killed either of them with his glare at this point. Finally though, he gave a weighted sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You have until October 21st. If I don't see any notable progress in that time, this gets shelved." He dropped his hand and looked at his gracious subordinates. "Now get out of my office."

"Thank you, sir." They both quickly left.

"We've gotta go talk to Robin again, see if she remembered anything." Vaike said.

Lon'qu nodded in agreement. After leaving the police station, they hopped in Lon'qu's vehicle, setting their course for Robin's house. Lon'qu kept a steady gaze on the road along the way. "12 days... That's not a lot of time to work with."

Vaike punched the car door in frustration. "This isn't the first time he pulled this shit either! He just seems to like throwing these cases out when they aren't even cold yet!"

"... It's frustrating, I know, but we need to keep our heads about this. Maybe Robin might surprise us this time."

When they arrived at Robin's home, Lon'qu and Vaike were greeted by the ever-bubbly Henry. "Ooh, I see you're back! Here to see Robin?"

"Yes, is she home?" Lon'qu asked.

"Yup," Henry answered with a bob of his head. He then stepped back from the door and waved them in. "Come in, I've got coffee in the pot if you want any."

"Please?" Vaike accepted without so much as a second of hesitation.

Robin was reading in the living room; she looked up when they walked in. While Henry veered off to the kitchen, Lon'qu and Vaike stood on the opposite side of the room. She closed the book and placed it on the coffee table. "Hi, are you here to ask more questions?"

Lon'qu nodded. "We are."

"Well, sit down," she off/ered, "there's not much point talking across the room."

Vaike settled in the closest chair, leaving Lon'qu with the choice of sitting next to Robin on the couch or just standing. Naturally, he stood by his partner.

Henry returned from the kitchen with a mug in hand, which he handed to Vaike. "There you go! By the way, if it's a lead you're looking for, I could always try a hex to get some of her memories back."

"I, uh..." Vaike chewed at his lip. "I don't think that'd fly in court."

"Oh well, suit yourself," Henry said without a hint of bitterness to be found. He left the room again, only this time it was followed by the front door opening and closing. That was fine. It saved Lon'qu the trouble of asking him to leave.

Now alone with the two officers, Robin lowered her head a little. In all the years Lon'qu knew her, there was never a day where she wasn't brimming with confidence. It was through her persistence that he started to get over himself and his phobia. This day was different: here she was, a shell of her former self, clinging to whatever shreds of her life she could grasp.

Lon'qu sighed. "So let's begin." He takes out a notepad and pen. "Have you recalled anything since the last time we've contacted you?"

"Yes, I have." The moment she said this, both men sat shocked, but neither dared interrupt her. "I remember the incident itself, two men grabbed me and threw me to a wall. They were kicking me and I couldn't get away from them."

As if broken from a spell, Lon'qu jumps straight to writing this all down. A breakthrough! An actual breakthrough! He wasn't sure whether he wanted to laugh or cry. "Can you describe these men in any way?"

"Yeah... They spoke Plegian, and had purple hoodies on. Does any of that mean anything?"

 _This is exactly what I expected, but to have an actual account of it makes this a lot easier._ "Yes, very much so. Is there anything else you can think of to describe them?"

"No. That's all I know." Robin replied.

There was little else that the woman had to offer, and so Lon'qu and Vaike left. But that one account was far more valuable than she could have possibly guessed.

* * *

The mission was simple: find Noire and get her to tell them what was going on in the D&D Club. It was so stinkin' simple, in fact, that even Brady was moderately confident that they could pull it off. After all, Noire had the resolve of wet tissue and was about as intimidating as a newborn kitten. He was so sure of himself, he stopped checking over his shoulder as he and Severa made their way down the hallway. They were going to corner her, get her into an empty classroom if they could. It was a simple, simple, simple plan.

Suddenly a pair of hands clasped his shoulders from behind.

Brady gave a very frightened yelp, his confidence vanishing in a puff of smoke. He threw his hands up. "I ain't done nothin'!"

Upon hearing him, Severa turned around. Almost immediately, an annoyed expression appeared on her face as she laid a hand on her hip. "Kjelle, just what are you doing?"

"I should be asking you that," was the sophomore's response. "I thought I told you to stay away from Noire."

 _This isn't good..._ Brady cringed in anticipation of a punch to the somewhere that'd rupture his something, but none of that came. Kjelle hadn't moved a finger. However, Severa's expression shifted to bitter on a dime; tension found itself in the fingers on her hip.

"You think you're the only one who knows what's good for Noire?" The loaded question hung like a lead balloon in the air. When no response came from it, Severa added in a raising voice, "I'm her friend, Kjelle! I've been her friend a hell of a lot longer than you have! Who are you to tell me that I can't be concerned for my friend?!"

"When you do bullshit like this, prying into her life this, then you're hardly a friend." Kjelle replied flatly.

Severa's eyes narrowed dangerously. "And you're one to talk? You're literally isolating her!"

"Back down, Severa."

"NO! You back down!" She snarled. "Think you're so high and mighty? You're no better than us, Kjelle!"

"Severa, maybe we should-"

"SHUT UP, BRADY!" Both snapped.

The unfortunate junior quickly shut his mouth, remaining at the mercy of Kjelle's grip.

"You know what? I don't have time for you, I'm out!" Severa then stormed off.

The moment the dark haired junior vanished from view, Brady felt a bead of sweat form on the base of his brow. There went his accomplice. Without him.  
In the grasp of someone who had very little patience at this moment.

"S-s-evera-! Come baaaaack!" Brady whined pitifully, but it was too late. She wasn't coming back. He looked back at Kjelle, who was absolutely stone cold. Then very meekly, he croaked out, "Y-you'll lemme go, right? Right? I ain't done nothin' wrong."

Kjelle scowled at him, but finally relinquished her grip on him. The moment she did, he scurried away, desperate to get the hell out of there.

* * *

 _I would just like to apologize again for the long wait on this chapter. I had gotten a job, gotten a boyfriend, gotten involved with a Fire Emblem RP, and straight up neglected fanfiction for months. I'm back though, and will be making an effort to get more chapters out for this._

 _Thank you so much for all your patience._


End file.
